


“Your hands ever shake, Frank?”

by PMWilkinson721



Category: The Bodyguard (1992)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, POV Alternating, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PMWilkinson721/pseuds/PMWilkinson721
Summary: Frank Farmer/Reader. The reader is a world famous actress in need of protection. Enter the utterly sexy former Secret Service agent, Frank Farmer. Drama and romance ensue, and eventual smut (let’s not kid ourselves, right? ;) )





	1. Chapter 1

“Your hands ever shake, Frank?”

 

 

  
Part One

 

*Frank*

  
My first mistake was assuming that she would be a stereotypical actress. A high-strung drama queen, a coked-out diva, or a snobbish brat with more money than sense. It turned out she was anything but.

That was my first mistake.

I guess it was an easy one to make. When I received the offer to protect a world famous celebrity, I turned it down immediately. I had no desire to cater to show business types. I preferred to stay with politicians, correspondents, diplomats. People who took security seriously. No nonsense, no bullshit.

But her people wouldn’t take no for an answer. The offered price got higher and higher. And when I finally had enough, when I finally foolishly asked who it was that could afford that price tag for a bodyguard, they told me. It was Y/N.

Y/N the A-lister, the drop-dead gorgeous woman whose face graced nearly every movie magazine since the release of whatever the hell that movie was that won all those awards last year. Some kind of political thriller where she played the sexy femme fatale. I never saw it, I never had time for those kinds of things. But I had heard her name before, I’d seen the trailers on television and the photographs. She was beautiful. All pouty lips, sultry eyes, long hair, tight little body.

I knew nothing about her, but I was still a man after all. She was the kind of woman that could make any red-blooded guy look twice, unless they were dead below the waist. Any maybe not even then.

So I took the job. Maybe that was actually my first real mistake.

I had prepared myself for the diva, but the woman I met was something else entirely.

I met her publicist at the airport, an smarmy little asshole with bleached hair in oversized sunglasses named Roman. After a long self-congratulatory speech about all the security measures he had prepared at Y/N’s primary residence, he finally told me about the problem. There was a stalker, perhaps more than one. Unauthorized persons gaining access to the grounds, particularly aggressive subjects showing up at press events, unsettling and threatening fan mail.

This guy had no fucking idea. While it was encouraging that he appreciated the effectiveness of properly gating the property and installing security cameras, it was obvious that was the extent of his expertise. There would be a lot of work to do, I had no doubt. And I fully expected to meet resistance.

We were chauffeured to the residence and met by a very disinterested security guard at the gate. The property was huge, a logistical nightmare. The trees were too dense and the shrubbery offered too many hiding spots. The walls needed to be heightened and reinforced. There was too much foliage around the pool area, doors left open to the lanai and balconies, too many unshuttered and uncurtained windows.

Roman walked me inside, introduced me to the household staff, and led me into the living room.

And there she was. Sitting on a plush leather couch, barefoot and cross-legged in a faded grey t-shirt and jeans, talking to some guy who looked like a sumo wrestler line-backer squeezed into a suit.

She looked up as we walked in and smiled. And god, it hit me like a gunshot.

All those photographs hadn’t done her justice.

She was gorgeous. She stood up and walked towards me like a fantasy in the flesh, all radiant smile, flowing hair, and clothes hugging every graceful curve.

“Y/N,” Roman simpered. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Frank Farmer, your new head of security.”

She extended a dainty manicured hand. “Frank, it’s nice to meet you.” And _wow_ , that voice. It fit her looks perfectly. Soft but firm.

I took her hand and shook it. “Miss Y/L/N.”

“Please call me Y/N,” she smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, Frank. Omar has been doing a great job.” She gestured behind her to the line-backer who was glaring daggers at me. “But I’m afraid he’s been getting overwhelmed lately. Things have been a little crazy.”

I glanced over at the glaring behemoth. “So I’ve heard.”

She released my hand and looked down, twining her fingers. A small unconscious gesture of nerves. “Yeah, some guy got over the wall last week. No big deal. The guys tossed him out, but I’d feel better if we could do a little security overhaul, you know?”

Roman clapped me obsequiously on the shoulder. “That’s why we have Mr. Farmer here. He’s the best in the business.” I shrugged my arm out from under his palm.

She looked up again. _God those eyes_...They were magnetic, glittering warmly. “Listen Frank, I appreciate you being here. I just... I don’t want to feel like a prisoner in my own home. Can we try to keep this reasonable?”

I nodded, dragging myself out of that sparkling gaze. “Let’s just see, shall we? You’ve hired me to do a job, Y/N. And I intend to do it thoroughly. The more cooperative you are, the easier it will be to adjust to the changes.”

She smiled again and nodded. “Then how about a little tour?”

 

*********

 

*Y/N*

 

God, Frank Farmer was such a gorgeous man.

I don’t know what I had been expecting when Roman told me he had hired a former Secret Service agent as my new personal bodyguard and head of security. But the man that had walked into the living room was most definitely not what I had envisioned.

I suppose I had expecting some bland, uptight, cookie-cutter federal agent. _But this man...._

He was tall, broad-shouldered and square-jawed, standing there in that sharply tailored charcoal suit. Brown hair, stormy green eyes, ruggedly handsome features. He wasn’t some huge muscle bound meathead either, but _wow_ he gave off an incredible presence. A commanding, alpha male aura that emanated from his solid stance, the confident lift of jaw, the deep timbre of his voice.

Admittedly I had a thing about hands. In my book they were one of the sexiest parts of a man’s body. And Frank Farmer’s hands were a thing of beauty. My hand was swallowed up in his as he shook it. His grasp was firm, calloused and warm, and hinting at a powerful grip.

Roman and Omar followed us as I gave Frank a quick tour of the house. I felt strangely self-conscious as I led him through each room, and I didn’t understand why. He was quiet, polite. He asked very few questions, but he spent a lot of time silently surveying each room. It was as if he was noting dimensions, taking in aspects of the spaces that I couldn’t begin to fathom.

We arrived at my bedroom upstairs. His brow was furrowed as he slowly walked the room. He eyed the open balcony doors disapprovingly, shaking his head. He glanced over to me. “There shouldn’t be any open doors around here.”

I raised a brow. “Even upstairs? The pool is right below us. I think it would be too difficult to get up here. Unless a guy carries around a grappling hook.”

The smallest smirk passed over his lips. “You’d be surprised. A motivated individual is capable of unexpected things,” he said walking outside to the balcony. “It wouldn’t be prudent to make it too easy.”

“I see,” I remarked dubiously as I followed him. “Well, luckily you’ll be able to keep an eye on things.” I pointed to the balcony a stone’s throw across from us. “That’s your room across the way. Anybody tries to climb up and they’ll be easy to pick off,” I laughed.

He glanced over to me again, silent a moment. I had to resist the urge to fidget under that piercing gaze. “I’m going to make sure that’s not necessary,” he said seriously.

“Mr. Farmer,” Roman interjected. “Why don’t we go downstairs and discuss Y/N’s schedule this week. She has a new movie wrapping up this month and as you can imagine, we are going to be very busy. Ah Y/N, Franz should be calling any minute to discuss the reshoots.”

I sighed. Franz. The overzealous and talentless director who wasn’t happy with my scenes. _Fuck_. A wave of anxiety washed over me.

I looked over to Frank to make my apologies for the interruption. He was already looking at me. It took me aback for a moment. _Christ_ , that deep green gaze was so penetrating. I almost imagined that he was reading my thoughts. It made the strangest warm frisson dance down my spine.

I cleared my throat, tearing my eyes away from his. “Sorry Frank, duty calls,” I remarked lightly, twining my fingers. “I’ll leave you in Roman’s capable hands.”

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“You too, Frank.”

 

*********

 

*Frank*

  
Things were going better than I could have hoped. The property had been secured, escort detail operations planned, events scheduled and prepared. The staff was cooperative, Y/N was cooperative. The only resistance I was encountering was from that dumb fuck Roman and his oversized henchman.

It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I didn’t care whose nuts got swole. I didn’t want Y/N going anywhere that wasn’t necessary until we had a better read on the threats we were facing.

And there was a threat.

Some of the letters the studio had been receiving didn’t follow the usual oddball monologue. There was a series of very carefully prepared letters. Printed words cut and pasted, references to “opening” Y/N’s eyes, taking her against her will to protect her “purity”, and then closing her eyes forever. Stuff beyond the typical batshit crazy fanaticism. I had those letters sent to the bureau for analysis, but so far they hadn’t come up with any solid leads.

That first week wasn’t easy. It was obvious that Roman had been keeping Y/N in the dark about a lot of what was going on behind the scenes. That wasn’t the tough part though. The tough part was being around her.

I was really starting to like this girl.

Boundaries are an important part of this job. Keeping a professional distance. And I sure as hell hadn’t prepared myself for this kind of problem.

Y/N wasn’t just beautiful, wasn’t just sexy. She was warm, approachable and engaging. She treated her staff with kindness. She was never rude or demanding, she knew everyone’s name, asked about their families. Hell, she even did her own laundry.

I’ll never forget. It must have been the second or third night I was there. I had just finished checking in with the gate crew and was giving the house a quick walk-through before I headed to bed. I saw her walking into the laundry room downstairs with an armful of clothes. And I just stopped and watched for a minute.

Even in sweatpants and a t-shirt, her hair piled messily up in a bun, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. There she was, standing on her tiptoes to reach the detergent on the shelf, her shirt riding up her back and exposing a stretch of smooth, taut midriff. Her body was all long, lithe curves. And then she was bending over with that perfect ass to shove her clothes into the machine, and _god it just killed me_. My feet were frozen to the spot, I couldn’t move. I just stood there watching her, I don’t even know for how long.

But that wasn’t the half of it. She was so damn charismatic. Conversations with her always segued so seamlessly into personal talk. She told me all about her family back in Texas, growing up and getting into the business, her love for old classic movies and cheesy horror flicks. I found myself telling her about my own family, my dad, my brother, about my mom passing away. I don’t know how she did it. It was unsettling how easy it was to talk to her. Too natural the way she would joke and tease me good-naturedly.

Boundaries. Boundaries are a necessity.

There was a event coming up that night, some party at the estate of some big wig producer. I was standing in the kitchen with Roman while Y/N was sitting at the table reading over a script with her personal assistant, a blonde lady named Roxy.

“So we will head over to the Montgomery party at 8:00,” Roman was saying as he perused over his tablet. “And before that, Y/N has her spa appointment at Rodolfo’s at 5:00.”

I shook my head. “No. No appointments. Have the spa people come here.”

Roman looked up peevishly. “No appointments? Frank, Y/N has a standing slot every month at Rodolfo’s. His people don’t come to us, we go to them.”

“It’s alright, Roman,” I heard Y/N say. I looked over to see her smiling. “Rodolfo’s is pretty secure. Maybe Frank would like to come feel it out.”

Roman grinned smugly. “Good then it’s settled, yes?”

I spared him a withering look before turning back to her. She stood up from the table and walked over. “C’mon Frank,” she smiled. “It’ll be good to get out of the house for a little while. I could use some fresh air. Rodolfo’s is okay. I’m sure once you see it, you won’t feel the need to worry about the place anymore.”

I hummed skeptically. She was standing so closely. I caught the scent of her perfume. I suppose I hadn’t noticed it before. Funny how things like that happen. You find yourself getting distracted by your other senses and then something hits you out of the blue.

Something like the scent of sandalwood, vanilla, something sweet like caramel.

Her eyes were sparkling with mirth. “Are you planning on accompanying to everything, Frank? Even my Brazilian bikini waxes?”

My voice caught in my throat. I knew she was just teasing me again, but that mental image of her bare, smooth...

_Fuck!_

I coughed, clearing my throat. Her smile had faltered, she was looking at me so intently with those bright wide eyes. What was it that she saw? I looked away.

“Where you go, I go, Y/N. That’s how it works.” I kept my voice as neutral as possible.

“Okay,” I heard her say softly. “We’ll do it your way, okay? Rox, give Rodolfo’s a call, will you? See if they can send somebody over this afternoon for the hair and makeup appointment please.”

 

*********

 

*Y/N*

 

_Ugh, I hated these parties._

A bunch of vapid Hollywood heavies drinking themselves blind and congratulating each other on the their latest and greatest achievements. Hanging out with some of my costars wasn’t bad, most of them were pretty down to earth people. But god, the rest of them. Mingling with pretentious strangers, overly wealthy and oversexed socialites, the ravenous press agents, the lurking paparazzi.

Don’t get me wrong. “Lies We Tell” could have been a great project. We had a strong ensemble cast of very talented actors, but it was quickly becoming a catastrophe of a movie. Franz had powerful industry connections, but he was a lousy director. I was playing Lola, the stripper with a heart of gold, who gets drawn into a messy organized crime racket and is rescued by the rebellious police detective who brings it all down with her help. But god, somebody had seriously fucked up casting Johnny Frederick as the leading man.

Johnny was a good-looking guy. But he was boozer, a cokehead, difficult and obnoxious. The shooting had already been stalled out twice. Once with his DWI arrest and then again with his stint in rehab. We had zero chemistry together on film. Franz hated our scenes together, but was insistent that reshooting could salvage them. It was like the nightmare movie that would never end.

And now here I was, in the viper’s nest and drinking another glass of champagne, as Roman brought person after person to come speak to me. I was restless. It was too chilly in this room for this ridiculous backless cocktail dress. These heels were too tall, stockings and garters too restraining.

Frank was my only saving grace. He kept his distance, walking the perimeter of the room. But just knowing he was there was comforting. More than once I’d feel the weight of his gaze on me from somewhere in the room. It was funny, but I was so _aware_ of his presence. I’d look up to find him watching me. He’d give me a small smile, a nod, and something warm would bloom in my stomach.

As the night wore on, we started trading silent thoughts from across the room. There’d be Roman, laughing shrilly at something somebody said and I’d look over at Frank and roll my eyes. He’d furrow his brow bemusedly and grin back at me. Or some sloppily drunk socialite would come hug me and she’d slur god knows what in my ear. I’d look over at Frank with wide eyed discomfort and he’d smirk and shake his head.

At one point I had some old pompous studio executive drunkenly hanging on my arm. He was telling me about how sexy I was even though I was young enough to be his daughter.

_Mega ick._

I met Frank’s eyes from across the room and gave him the smallest suffering look and watched the upward turn of his lips, a small smile of amused empathy.

It wasn’t long before the creepy executive started getting too familiar, too handsy, hooking his finger into the strap of my dress. I began to pull back, but in an eyeblink Frank appeared at my side out of nowhere and escorted me away with a muttered “excuse us”, his palm warm on the small of my back, solid and reassuring.

“You alright?” he said quietly as we made our way to the foyer. His hand was still on the small of my back and my skin tingled warmly under his touch.

I nodded as we stopped in the hallway. I leaned into him, turning into his arm and moving my face to his neck. “I’m ready to get the hell outta here, Frank. Can we please go?” I whispered at his ear. _And god...he smelled so good_. Like cardamom, vetiver and leather. _God what was that cologne?_ I breathed in just to immerse myself in it again.

He had stilled. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Yeah,” he said softly. “We’ll do whatever you want.”

I lifted my head, looking up into his eyes. His gaze was hooded and dark, something unreadable in those stormy green pools. He was so close, his face inches from mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. _God I could just lean in a few millimeters and...._

“Y/N! Where the hell did you go?” I heard Roman’s voice somewhere behind me and turned. I sighed as I watched him bustling over, cheeks pink with champagne and fluster.

“I’m ready to go, Roman,” I said tiredly. “I think we’ve done enough schmoozing for the night, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense, it’s just getting interesting in there, darling! Tiffany is dancing on the bar and Melvin just passed out on the chaise. Franz is on his way over now, we can’t leave yet.”

“She said we’re leaving.” I heard Frank growl beside me. “The car is leaving in 3 minutes. If you’re not in it, find another ride back.”

Roman had opened his mouth to object, but Frank’s hand was on my back again, turning me and leading me to the door.

“I’ll make your apologies then, yes?” I heard Roman call churlishly. But I didn’t answer.

 _God this felt good_. I felt...I don’t know...in control. For the first time in a long time. I could do what I wanted to do, not what I was forced to do. I had a real ally beside me. _An ally with warm, powerful hands..._

_A handsome, protective ally who smelled like a virile, panty-dropping fantasy in a suit, with eyes that could melt glass, and...._

_Christ_.

This was more complicated that I had expected.

  
*********

 To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

 

 

  
*Frank*

 

  
“Those things never were my cup of tea,” she sighed, casting a glance out of the window at the passing lights.

I looked over at her from my seat on the other side of the limousine and nodded. “Yeah. I could tell.”

It was funny. As charismatic as she was, I had expected that she would be in her element in that social scene. But she hadn’t been. The more people that had flocked to her at that party, the more uncomfortable she had seemed.

But I suppose I couldn’t blame them. _God she was a fucking vision in that little backless dress._ But it wasn’t just the dress, or the elegant hair, or the makeup, or the radiant smile. She was magnetic, people were just drawn to her.

Even that asshole with the wandering hands.

I hadn’t taken my eyes off her all night, and believe me it wasn’t a difficult task. And then I saw it. I had seen the sudden tension in her body language and I was already moving, stepping in, leading her away.

Things got a little blurred after that.

Boundaries. Boundaries got a little blurred after that.

The next thing I knew she was tucked into my chest, her mouth at my ear, her scent in my lungs. Her whispered voice, the words innocuous, _but god_...and the look on her face, those full parted lips so close...

These were disastrous thoughts I was having.

I snapped myself back to the present. She was shaking her head and laughing. “God, I will be so happy when this movie is wrapped. It’s so god awful. I can’t even begin to tell you.”

I smiled. “Try me.”

She looked over at me and took a breath. “My lead co-star is a belligerent, doped-up asshole. Our scenes together are total garbage. We are hopelessly behind our production schedule. The director is insisting on reshoots and trying to convince me that in order to be truly avant-garde, I need to be full frontal topless,” she finished in a rush.

I coughed. “What?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Not the wisest choice of script I’ve ever made, I know. I’m playing a stripper for god’s sakes. It was supposed to be an edgy, artsy project. But I was very clear from the beginning that I wasn’t interested in full blown nudity. I think Franz knows how fucked this movie is, and he’s trying to salvage it with some kind of cheap box-office draw.”

“I see,” I remarked lamely and laced my fingers together. Christ, I was completely out of my league with this. I didn’t know what to say to her. Something deep down was still simmering uncomfortably after that scene in the house. And now here she was talking about going topless for a movie and it was taking ever bit of willpower not to envision it in my mind.

“The scenes have already been shot. You know, with pasties and creative camera angles.” She laughed. “But Franz is insisting that we rework the scenes and reshoot.”

“With the belligerent, doped-up asshole?”

“Exactly.”

“So tell him no.”

She was silent a moment. “I don’t think it’s that easy. This is a big money project. I don’t want to let anybody down if it flops. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t give a damn about Franz or the producers. But my co-stars, the crew, they’ve put it a lot of work in this.”

I nodded. “Listen, I have no expertise in these things,” I said carefully. “But I can tell you this: you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You make your own choices. You do what you’re comfortable doing, and fuck everybody else.”

She laughed loudly and it was a wonderful candid sound. “I like that, Frank. That’s a very profound motto,” she smiled.

I shook my head. “I’m the last person that should be giving you industry advice,” I said seriously.

“No,” she said softly and looked down, her smile fading. “I’m actually grateful for it. This business...it’s uh...not known for being genuine.” She looked up again. “Thank you for tonight, Frank. Thank you for all of it.”

I nodded. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

She smiled wanly. And god she looked so beautiful sitting there under the glow of the passing streetlights, her eyes so goddamn sincere and sparkling. I was suddenly thankful for the safe distance between us in the car.

She bit her lip. “I’d like to know what you think.”

“Sorry?”

“About the movie. I’ve got a dvd at home. It’s just a few of the scenes that Franz wants to reshoot. Honestly, I haven’t had any desire to watch it. I hate seeing myself on film anyway.” She laughed lightly, twining her fingers. “Would you be willing to take a look at it? You know, give me an objective opinion?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah...yeah, sure.”

That turned out to be a spectacularly bad idea.

Another mistake. Add it to the list.

Omar was waiting for us when we pulled up to the house. “Where is Roman?” he muttered gruffly as I stepped out of the car.

I shot him a quick glance. “He decided to stay behind,” I said curtly.

The behemoth glowered skeptically as I took Y/N’s hand to help her climb out. I walked her inside and we said our goodnights in the foyer. She had told me the disc was in the screening room whenever I had time to watch it.

I refused to admit to myself that I rushed through my nightly walk around the perimeter of the grounds, that I purposefully cut short my conversation with the guards at the gate.

I sat in that chair in the screening room. In the dark. And I just stared at the screen, half drunk glass of orange juice long forgotten. _And Christ almighty_....

It didn’t matter that it was a choppy montage of scenes. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been costumed in a burlap sack. And she most definitely wasn’t costumed in any sack in the strip club scene...

It was a sheer carefully-sequined bikini top...matching g-string...stiletto heels....

_God help me._

She was dancing in flashing strobes of shadow and light, swaying her hips in time to the pulsing music, bending over and arching her back, the lights playing over every graceful curve. _And fuck as if that wasn’t enough_ , in the next moment there’d be a shot of her face. She was looking right into the camera with heavy lidded eyes and it felt like she was looking _right into me_...watching me as she was gliding her hands over her breasts, up her neck and into her hair.

I sat there totally transfixed, motionless until I couldn’t take it anymore. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears and it felt like half the blood in my body had shot straight to my cock. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, reaching down to readjust myself through my pants.

Mercifully the scene changed moments later. She was in the arms of the dark-haired guy I supposed was the belligerent, doped-up asshole. She looked discomfited, her body language at odds with the soft words she was speaking as he clutched her to his chest.

The tension in her body was familiar. I had already seen it that night. That lecherous big wig at the party. _Neither he nor this glazed-eyed prick deserved to lay a hand on her_...

_Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with me?_

I punched the off button on the remote and sat there in the dark. Waiting for my hard-on to fade, waiting for the world to tip back onto an even fucking axis.

 _Jesus what the fuck was I doing_...

 

  
*********

 

*Y/N*

  
I knew there was no way I was going to sleep.

I had kicked off my heels in the library downstairs and curled up on the chaise lounge with that ridiculous fucking script. Christ, I was so tired of looking at it. The words never changed. I blew out a defeated breath. _How the hell did Franz expect anything to change for the better with this movie?_

I decided to take a stroll around the pool for a few minutes to clear my head. I grabbed a throw blanket and wrapped it over my shoulders. When I stepped out into the cool night air, I saw the flickering light through the windows of the screening room from across the lanai.

My heart leaped up into my throat.

_Frank. He was watching the film takes._

I guess I hadn’t expected that he was going to watch it so soon.

I crept towards the window as closely as I dared. He was sitting in one of the armchairs with his back mostly to me.

_My god he looked so good._

I hadn’t yet seen him out of uniform, so to speak. He had taken off his jacket, his tie was hanging loosely from his open collar. He wore suspenders, not trendy-hipster suspenders, but real honest-to-god suspenders like a silver screen G-man. I smiled. It suited him, classically dapper and old school.

My eyes continued to wander. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up over his forearms. Lovely muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. The lights of the screen played so nicely over the rugged features of his profile, the hard edges of his jaw and brow, and the curve of his lips.

I followed his eyes to the screen and _oh holy fuck_. It was the first strip club sequence. _Shit! Why the hell had Franz included this ridiculous shit on the disc?_

Frank was watching the screen so intently, leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his splayed knees, fingers steepled under his chin between his large hands. So still, so focused.

I felt a flush seeping up my throat and into my cheeks. _This felt...I don’t know...naughty somehow, almost voyeuristic._ But it was more than that...

It wasn’t that the scene was outrageously risqué, it wasn’t like I was naked. But somehow I felt _exposed_ as I looked at him...watching him watching me so raptly on the screen.

 _Because it was him_. Because it was _him_ watching me. Like I was right there in front of him, bare and vulnerable under his gaze.

And then he was dropping his hands, reaching down between his legs to adjust himself. The heat in my cheeks flared worse than ever, a wave of desire spreading hotly in my stomach so suddenly that it startled me.

I tore my gaze away and rushed back into the house. As I closed the lanai door behind me, I released a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

 _Jesus girl, get a grip_.

What the hell was wrong with me? My face still felt so hot, my stomach in knots.

God I couldn’t remember the last time I had such visceral reactions to a man before. Just looking at him, thinking about him, it gave me warm tingles everywhere.

Sure there were plenty of good looking guys all over the place in Hollywood, but it seemed like there was never anyone who truly piqued my interest. I hadn’t had a real date in...ugh...god knows his long. Maybe it was starting to take a toll on me....

_But my god...Frank..._

_Dammit get it together, girl. He’s a professional. His interest in you is purely professional..._

_But is it?_

_Is it really?_

I had wandered aimlessly upstairs to my bedroom, immersed in a tangle of thoughts. I flicked on the light as I walked into the room and...

Something was wrong, something wasn’t right.

The doors to the balcony were cracked open, the autumn breeze rippling the curtains eerily. I felt the little hairs rise on the back of my neck. I looked to the bed....

_Holy fuck._

A cold chill was crawling up my scalp as I took in the scattered bedclothes, the ripped sheets, the layer of feathers on the floor from the torn pillows.

I took a few unsteady steps closer. And there was a fucking note on the mattress. I saw a mass of words scrawled in black ink.

 ****_Bitch._  
Whore.  
You’re going to die.

My legs were shaking. I was drowning in bone-chilling terrifying realization.

_Somebody had been in my house._

_Somebody had been in my bedroom._

My breath was coming in short abortive gasps. I remember screaming out Frank’s name. The sound seemed muted, my hearing muffled. My vision was frozen to that scene in front of me. The next thing I knew, arms were wrapping around me tightly from behind. I screamed again, struggling madly, and then Frank’s voice was in my ear, low and intense.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

 

  
*********

 

*Frank*

 

 

“This isn’t the same person as the other notes,” I said lowly into the phone.

“I hear you, Frank,” came Hendrickson’s voice. “You want us to take a look at it?”

“Yeah, Bill. The local PD will have it in their evidence storage. I’ll talk to the supervisor tomorrow and see how soon I can get it to you.”

I heard him laugh. “Private sector not all it’s cracked up to be, huh? Well, you know what they say: money can’t buy happiness.”

I smirked darkly. “Yeah, so I’ve heard. I’ll let you know something soon.”

I ended the call. I looked across the foyer into the living room where Y/N was sitting wrapped in a blanket, Roman hovering over her and clucking agitatedly.

She looked so small, so vulnerable.

 _This shouldn’t have fucking happened_.

It had taken a long time to calm her down. I had been so fucking furious, but all that shit had gone on the back burner as I held her in my arms. The police had been called, I had brought her downstairs. And I sat on that couch and just held her until she stopped trembling.

_This shouldn’t have fucking happened._

Something reeked about this. Somebody had somehow penetrated the perimeter while we were gone earlier in the evening. There was some kind of bullshit camera system “glitch” with no surveillance footage. A handwritten note, not the crazy cut-and-paste writer. It didn’t make sense.

But it didn’t matter. I should have seen something coming, anything. But I had been distracted. Unacceptably distracted.

The patrol officer ambled over from the hallway with a slip of paper. “We’re all done here, sir. Here’s your case number. The report should be ready by next week.”

I nodded and took it from him. Roman came bustling over importantly. “So,” he remarked with a sarcastic smirk, “Any idea how this royal fuck-up occurred?”

“No,” I responded tersely, brushing past him and walking into the living room. Y/N looked up as I approached. She looked so pale.

“I think we need to get you out of here for a few days,” I said.

Y/N had opened her mouth to speak but Roman stepped in front of me. “Absolutely not,” he hissed. “Y/N has too many appointments this week. There are events, re-shooting, public appearances. We can’t shut down the whole operation just because you didn’t do your fucking job!”

The barb stung, but that didn’t keep the blood from boiling in my veins. “This is not a discussion,” I said slowly, acidly. “Cancel and reschedule everything. I can’t protect her like this. Not until we know what we’re facing here.” I took a step closer to him and he tensed, his eyes wide. “I’m going to do my fucking job, Roman. With or without your cooperation.”

“Roman...” I heard Y/N say softly.

He turned. Y/N had stood up from the couch, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her. She turned her gaze from him to me. “Frank’s right. We need to get a handle on things. I think we should do what he’s asking.”

Roman spluttered. “You’ve got the radio spot with Wojo first thing in the morning! The luncheon on Wednesday! And what the hell am I supposed to tell Franz?”

She sighed. “Alright, we’ll do Wojo. Everything else can be rescheduled.”

“And Franz?” he muttered petulantly.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “This movie has been behind schedule for weeks, Roman. Who the fuck really cares at this point?” She opened her eyes again with a mirthless smile. “Tell him I’m taking a page out of Johnny Frederick’s book and going into rehab for awhile.”

Roman seethed silently and walked away. Y/N met my eyes with a small smile. I returned it, my anger ebbing effortlessly away.

“I’m going to go change. I think I’ll sleep in the downstairs guest room tonight, Frank.”

I nodded, dropping my gaze and shifting restlessly on my feet.

“I’ll be back down in a few,” she continued. “Listen...would you uh...would you stay with me for a little while, Frank?”

I jerked my head up. She was looking down at her hands, twining her fingers.

I swallowed. “Yeah...” I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I will.”

I had pulled one of the guards off the gate crew to walk the exterior of the house, rechecked all the doors and windows one last time, and then I waited. Paced the floor outside her bedroom until she finally emerged. Apparently fresh from the shower, wet-haired, in a robe and flannel pajama pants...and completely and unfairly lovely.

 _Christ_.

“So what do you think about all this?” she asked as we walked downstairs.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. I was looking into one fruitcake, but now it seems like there’s another one.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“How do you know it’s not the same guy?”

“It doesn’t work that way. The fanatics, the true psychotics, they follow a pattern and they stay true to their form. They don’t deviate from it.”

“And tonight?”

“What happened tonight was something different. This isn’t the same guy I was looking into before. Something is wrong with this...”

We had reached the guest bedroom. I took a walk of the room before I turned on the bedside lamp and turned off the overhead light.

“What do you mean ‘wrong’?” she asked.

I looked over at her. She was shrugging off her robe to reveal a lacy little camisole top, pale blue, fitted tightly over her breasts. I jerked my gaze away and turned. “There’s a lot of things wrong.” I cleared my throat. “Somebody getting in while we were gone with nobody noticing, a problem with the video surveillance system. Too many convenient coincidences.”

I heard the rustle of the covers as she slipped into bed and turned back around. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and rolled onto her side. “So what do we do?”

“Get you away from here for a little while. Regroup until we figure this out.”

She nodded. “Where to?”

I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I’m not sure yet.”

She raised a brow and smiled. “You’re not sure, or you’re just not going to tell me yet?

I grinned. “You’re too clever. I guess I need to up my game.”

She laughed that candid ringing laugh. It was good to hear. Good to hear her laugh considering what a mess she had been a couple of hours ago.

I looked down and scuffed my shoe at some imaginary spot on the floor. “I should uh...I should let you get some sleep, Y/N.

“Frank...”

I looked up.

“Do you mind staying, you know, just until I fall asleep?”

I nodded wordlessly. I moved to the armchair next to the bed and sat down. I met her eyes, she was smiling softly. I cleared my throat again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Frank.”

“What the hell is a Wojo?”

She laughed again, closing her eyes. “Hmmm. Maybe I’m not going to tell you yet.”

I smirked and chuckled lowly. “Figures.”

It didn’t take her long to fall asleep. After a few minutes, her breathing became slow and even. And I stayed a few minutes after that. She looked so beautiful sleeping...long lashes fanned out on her cheeks, full lips slightly parted, the glow of lamplight over her delicate features.

No makeup, no styled hair, no designer outfits...

Just her.

_God this woman..._

I was going to do whatever it took to keep her safe. To make sure she never had to experience that kind of fear again.

_Christ, how had I gotten myself into this position?_

 

*********

To be continued...


	3. Part 3

Part 3

 

*Y/N*

 

  
It was the din of voices outside the bedroom that woke me. I opened my eyes to see sunlight streaming palely into the room from the windows. The bedside lamp was off. Frank’s chair was empty.

I sat up and stretched languidly. _Wow_. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept so soundly. I suppose just knowing that he was there had made all the difference in the world.

_Sitting there in that tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his lovely forearms...G-man suspenders...his tie loose at his open collar._

I smiled to myself and sighed contentedly.

And then I remembered.

I was sleeping in this bedroom because some fucking maniac had broken into my home and torn apart my bed. A cold frisson danced down my spine and I fidgeted uncomfortably. _How in the fuck had this happened?_

Before I could delve too deeply into those troubling thoughts, the din got louder. I could hear Roman’s shrill voice, the words garbled. I rolled dejectedly out of bed, shrugging on my robe and running a hand through my utterly wayward hair.

_Ugh, I don’t know if I’m ready to face this day..._

I walked out into the hallway. I could hear Roman’s dulcet bitching tones in the foyer. “This is the last fucking thing we need, Roxy! Y/N is going to lose her mind when she hears this!”

I rounded the corner to see him and Roxy standing in the front doorway. He was looking down at something on his tablet.

“What will I hear, Roman?” I called out. “And why will I lose my mind?”

Roman looked over with an aghast expression. He huffed an agitated sigh and bustled over to me as I dropped gracelessly onto the couch in the living room.

“Some fucking flatfoot cop leaked the story to the press,” he hissed, shoving the tablet before my eyes. I looked down to see the TMZ webpage. There was a bold red headline:

**_Stalker! A starlet’s terror!_ **

There was a cropped picture of me from last night walking out from the party, looking over my shoulder. There was a sliced frame of Frank’s hand on my back. I resisted the totally inappropriate smile that threatened to curl on my lips.

I sighed heavily. “Well the cat’s outta the bag, Roman. What did you expect?”

He rolled his eyes skyward. “You wouldn’t believe how my phone has been blowing up all morning! Every lousy rag on the market is asking for a statement! And you can bet your little cute bum that Wojo is going to ask you about it this morning.”

_Wojo. Ugh, the morning radio spot._

I handed him back the tablet. “Just draft something appropriately vague, Roman. Let me see it on the way to the station. You’re the master of spin, aren’t you?”

He raised a sarcastic brow. “Glad to see you’re taking it so well, darling,” he remarked archly. “Do you want me to get you a Xanax? I know I could use one.”

I laughed. “No, thank you. I’ll settle for some coffee.”

“Roxy!” he snapped imperiously and then disappeared towards the office doors.

I blew out a breath and met Roxy’s eyes. I liked Roxy a lot. Though she was much older than me, she felt more like a sister than an assistant. She had her mother hen tendencies, but thank god she wasn’t as excitable as Roman.

She smiled warmly. “You doing okay, Y/N?”

“Yeah...given the circumstances,” I replied tiredly. “Where’s Frank?”

She pressed her lips together hesitantly. “He’s out checking the situation at the gate. There’s a sea of paparazzi out there.”

“Great,” I groaned.

She chuckled sympathetically. “C’mon, I’ll get your coffee. Let’s head upstairs and get you ready.”

Roxy had apparently very tactfully had the bedroom cleared up. I glanced at the bed as I made my way to the bathroom. Someone had covered the torn mattress with a plain blue quilt, but I still shivered involuntarily as I passed it.

After I finished with a light application of makeup and perfume, Roxy helped me corral my unruly hair into a long and curly, half-up-half-down style. I decided to meet the day as optimistically as possible in jeans and a light sweater, but paired with sexy knee-high boots.

When I was done getting dressed, I made a pass by the window to have a peek towards the gate. Sure enough, even from this angle, it looked like there was a whole battalion of photographers milling around out there. _Fucking vultures_. I thought back to last night. That cold frisson returned insidiously, washing icily down my back.

And then my eyes caught sight of him.

Frank was striding towards the house, a grim expression on his handsome face. The cold chill began to ebb away. He was dressed down today: black polo shirt, black jacket, khaki pants. _Damn, he could make anything look good_. I saw a brief flash of the sidearm holstered on his hip as his jacket whipped in the wind.

I sighed, memories of last night floating to the surface of my mind. Not the scary parts though. I remembered him sitting there on the couch with me, holding me in his arms...breathing in that heady scent of his cologne at his neck, his arms wrapped tightly around me. His grasp had been so strong, so solid and warm and grounding...

And long before that...watching him in the screening room...watching him watching me so intently...him reaching down between his legs to grab his...

Roxy sidled up next to me at the window, startling me out of my thoughts. My cheeks flushed furiously. She smiled and plucked playfully at a strand of my hair. “You look beautiful.”

“All thanks to you,” I grinned.

She regarded me keenly. “You know it’s funny, you getting all dolled up for a radio program. It’s not like the listeners are actually going to see you.”

I smirked. “Well at least I’ll look nice for the media vultures, right?”

She raised an impish brow as she draped my favorite grey scarf over my shoulders. “Might there be another reason?”

I eyed her quizzically.

She grinned. “A tall, dark and handsome reason with a gun and a cute butt?”

I laughed but my cheeks heated again traitorously. “Stop it.”

She bumped me gently with her shoulder. “He likes you, you know.”

“What are we, in grade school, Rox?”

“Just an observation,” she trilled. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And it would be about time that you had a date.”

“Oh my god. That’s it, Rox. Time to go.”

She giggled gleefully as she handed me my purse. “Enjoy your day.”

 

  
*********

 

*Frank*

 

  
“Right, so we’ll arrive at 9:30, brief chit-chat with Wojo, and the interview will last approximately fifteen minutes,” Roman remarked, looking down at his tablet. “Then we’ll head downstairs for meet and greet and autographs for ten minutes...”

“No,” I said absently, craning my neck to take another glance outside to the crowd outside the gate. “No meet and greets, no autograph signing. We’ll go in and out through whatever rear entrance the building has.”

Roman made a noise of outrage. “You can’t be serious!”

I turned to him, leveling my gaze. “After what happened last night, we’re not taking any chances.”

He scoffed, looking to Omar agitatedly for support. Omar stood stoic and silent like a Buddhist statue. Roman looked back at me. “You really believe some maniac is going to try to assassinate her in broad daylight? This is Los Angeles, Mr. Farmer. Not Kabul for god’s sake!”

“We’re not taking any chances,” I said again firmly. Movement at the top of the stairs caught my peripheral vision and I looked up.

_Wow_.

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her long hair back over her shoulder as she descended the stairs. She looked great. Tight little white sweater, form fitting jeans, tall high-heeled boots...

_Christ. Snap out of it, Farmer._

I returned her smile as she reached the bottom step. “Morning.”

_Jesus, is that the best you can up with?_

“Good morning, Frank,” she replied, bright eyes sparkling.

“You doing okay?” I asked seriously. She certainly seemed to be very calm and collected given the mayhem last night.

She laughed, dropping her gaze. “Surprisingly well actually. I slept very soundly.” She looked up again, smiling and biting the edge of her lower lip.

I nodded. “That’s good,” I replied lamely. God she was killing me with that knowing smile, those full lips. I wondered if they felt just as soft and pillowy as they looked...how they would taste...

_Christ, get a grip on yourself._

“C’mon people,” Roman sing-songed loudly. “One hour til air time! Let’s not keep Wojo waiting!”

We were taking both of the Escalades. Two cars are best. The outside observer doesn’t know which one the client is in, and it makes for an easy bait and switch if necessary. I accompanied Y/N and Roman in the first car and had Omar bring up the rear in the second.

Even with the dark limo-tinted windows, there was a barrage of camera flashes as we passed the horde outside the gate.

I saw Y/N tense beside me as she looked out the window. I needed to distract her. “So are you ready to tell me what a Wojo is?”

She looked over at me and laughed, her body relaxing. “A who actually. He’s a radio host from Los Angeles K.I.S.S. He does a weekly spot with a celebrity guest. He’s popular, but truthfully he’s kind of a tool.”

“So why would anyone want to be his guest?”

She shrugged amusedly. “I don’t actually. I’m supposed to talk up this ridiculous floundering movie, voice my support for my co-star in rehab. It’s just a bunch of bullshit really.”

“There’s no such thing as bad press, darling,” Roman interjected from the front seat.

She flashed me a wry expression. “No, the truth is that it’s all bad,” she said in an undertone.

It was a quick but very distracting ride to the station. The entire time I was scanning the periphery, I was breathing in that subtle savory scent of her perfume. I’d be watching the passing traffic, trying to take note if any cars seemed to be following us, but my eyes kept getting drawn back to her...

That little vee in her delicate brow as she was reading something on Roman’s tablet...drawing her lower lip into her teeth...crossing and recrossing her long legs...how she’d absently run her fingers along her collarbone or twirl a strand of hair between her fingers...

_Christ_.

Mercifully we finally arrived at the studio, and I directed the driver to take the backstreet towards the rear alleyway. A station rep met us at the rear door and escorted us up the back stairwell to the offices upstairs. Omar was getting winded and falling behind at the second floor, so I dismissed him. I told him I’d call when we were finished and advised him to wait downstairs with the driver and the vehicles.

I stood outside the glass-walled studio while Y/N was giving her interview. Even with Roman hovering at her shoulder, she seemed much more at ease talking with a small group of people. It was good to see her relaxed and smiling at whatever the “Wojo” tool was saying to her.

My phone buzzed at my hip.

“Farmer.”

“Frank, it’s Bill. Behavioral division finished its assessment of your cut and paste writer.”

“Yeah? Whatcha got, Bill?”

“It’s not good, Frank. Dr. Perez says that he thinks you’re dealing with something called a ‘covetous psychopath’. Somebody with ultra-fanatical, almost religious dedication to his cause; Narcissistic, impulsive, disinhibited. And more than likely, somebody prone to extreme and violent escalation of his behavior.”

“And no fucking prints.”

“Nah, no prints,” he confirmed. “Professionally clean. But forensics did tell me that the words were apparently cut from the Los Angeles Times newspaper.”

“So somebody local,” I commented absently.

“Seems to be.”

“Alright, thanks Bill. The LAPD are supposed to forwarding the latest letter to you this week. Let me know when you get it.”

“Will do, Frank.”” I heard him chuckle. “So tell me something...

“Yeah?”

“Is she just as good-looking in person?”

I cast a glance over to where Y/N was sitting in the studio. She was speaking into her microphone, smiling again, biting that soft lower lip.

“Even better, Bill.”

He guffawed loudly. “You always were a lucky son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll keep telling myself,” I remarked glibly. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

 

*********

 

*Y/N*

 

  
The interview went better than I expected.

Obviously it was hot gossip that “Lies We Tell” was hopelessly stalled out due to Johnny’s off-screen antics. I appropriately demurred to discuss the problems themselves, and instead stated that both cast and crew were optimistic about the movie’s future.

Wojo had happily accepted that line of bullshit. We spent the rest of the interview discussing older projects and recounting funny behind the scenes stories. And then he hit me with it...

The not-so-secret stalker situation.

Thankfully Roman had already prepared a statement for me. That there had been a burglary, that nothing had been taken, but the incident was being investigated as a possible overzealous fan. I played dumb about the specifics and told him that it happened when I wasn’t home (which was mostly truthful).

I snuck a glance out of the studio windows at Frank. He was pacing, his phone at his ear, his handsome expression grim.

I felt Roman clapping me softly on the shoulder, I turned to see him and Wojo looking at me expectantly.

_Shit, I don’t know what he just asked..._

“The press luncheon,” Roman hissed quietly.

“Oh, yes,” I said in a rush. “Unfortunately I won’t be able to attend this week. A family matter came up, but of course I’ll be wishing my best to all the wonderful members of the Hollywood press,” I finished smoothly.

There wasn’t any “family matter” going on of course. Roman had suggested that we make an appropriately vague statement about why I would be dropping off the radar in the near future. _Ugh, no doubt the “wonderful members of the Hollywood press” would be ravenously searching for the real scoop before long..._

We wrapped the interview cordially and I was relieved to finally be off the hot seat. Frank was waiting for me outside and gave me a small nod as I stepped out of the studio.

“How’d it go?”

I smirked as he steered me down the hall towards the stairwell. “It was completely disingenuous and absurd. Worthy of any shallow celebrity, I suppose.”

He shook his head with a small smile. “I doubt you have a single shallow bone in your body,” he said seriously.

I looked over at him, taken aback by the unexpected weight of the compliment. He met my eyes, his heavy green gaze so sincere...

“Darling,” Roman interrupted jarringly. “Are you sure you don’t want to head to the lobby for just a few minutes? At least show your face for a few pictures?”

I cleared my throat, glancing back to Frank but he was already on the phone again, telling Omar that we were heading downstairs. I looked back to Roman. “No, I don’t think so. I’d rather just get out of here.”

I expected him to bluster and complain, but Roman merely sighed and nodded. Thank Christ.

Frank held open the door to the stairwell and fell in step beside me as I walked through. I smiled over at him. “So now that you know what a Wojo is, are you ready to tell me where I’ll be taking my upcoming sabbatical?”

He smiled and opened his mouth to speak...

And then it happened.

It happened so fast I didn’t have time to think.

We rounded the turn in the stairwell and a man was reaching out to me from a dark corner. And just as suddenly Frank was stepping in front of me, yanking me behind him-his other arm shooting out-his fist connecting with the man’s throat. A camera fell to the ground with a clatter, the man dropping to his knees, choking and wheezing wetly. I heard a gruff “Hey!” and there was another man with darker hair stepping up behind him and grabbing onto the sleeve of Frank’s jacket. A flash of movement, a sickening crack- the dark haired man’s jaw was whipping back and he was crumpling to the ground. Roman was shrieking god knows what-I was frozen to the spot-Frank was turning, sweeping me up in his arms like I was weightless and bounding down the last flight of stairs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he was kicking out the door to the alleyway. There was a blinding flash of sunlight and I had to turn my head away from it. And the next thing I knew we were tumbling into the backseat of the Escalade.

“Go! Let’s go!” I heard Frank yell to the driver.

I saw a glimpse of the driver’s wide eyes in the rear view mirror. _God, what was his name? David?_ And then the car was jerking forward with a squealing whine, careening the thought right out of my head as fell back against the seat with the momentum.

_Oh god_.

“Jesus! Roman!” I yelled, looking back through the glass as the studio fell away in the distance.

“He’ll be fine,” Frank said, his voice so calmly dichotomous to mine. “Omar has the other car. The priority is getting you out of there before the situation escalates.”

“Jesus...” I breathed. “Jesus, what the fuck...”

I looked over at Frank. _God he wasn’t even breathing heavily_. He was looking back at me so inscrutably collected and unruffled. My eyes searched over him, as if I could find some secret source of his calm to latch onto. My sight snared on his right hand. There was blood welling up from his knuckles, the skin torn.

_Skin he had torn punching that asshole in the jaw..._ I took his hand in mine without thinking.

_God this is a beautiful hand..._

It was so large, his palm so heavy in mine. All powerful tendons, prominent veins, long thick fingers. I pulled my scarf from my shoulders and  
pressed it gently over his knuckles, the blood seeping up through the fabric in angry red spots. I wrapped it carefully, coiling the scarf over and over again. My hands were trembling in time to my still racing pulse. His hand was so steady and still...

“Do your hands ever shake, Frank?” I asked softly, trying for flippancy but failing miserably with the quaver in my voice.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly.

I looked up to meet his eyes, startled by the unexpected intensity of his gaze. He said nothing else, _but god those eyes_. They were suddenly unshuttered, so deep and heated, that they made my breath catch in my throat. There was something else there too, something flustered, something like thinly veiled panic. And _god_ it was such a compellingly beautiful look on his handsome face.

My mouth went dry as I sat frozen in that mesmeric gaze. I licked my lips. His gaze dropped to my mouth. He swallowed hard.

I heard the blaring ring of my phone and tore my eyes away from him, errantly grateful for the distraction. Somehow my purse had migrated under the seat at some point and I fished it out clumsily with still quaking hands.

_Roman. Fuck._

“What in the blue fuck!” he wailed when I answered. “Your bodyguard just assaulted two fucking photographers!”

I bristled, silent for a beat. “You mean two paparazzi...”

I heard Roman sigh dramatically. “Oh for god’s sake, what difference does it make?! This is a fucking disaster! They’re going to sue, you know this!”

I don’t know if it was my still racing pulse, the adrenaline still thundering in my veins, or the heat beginning to rise in my cheeks...but I was suddenly awash in a hot surge of anger.

“Then they can go fuck themselves, Roman,” I said acidly. “Are you kidding me? Lying in wait in the dark like some kind of fucking predators? They’re lucky they didn’t get themselves shot!”

I could feel the weight of Frank’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t look over at him. Not with the heat still flushing in my cheeks, not with this fucking phone still trembling in my hand.

I heard Roman babbling apoplectically. “Are you-fuck-can I-god-we cannot-“

“Handle it, Roman,” I said firmly, grateful my voice came out steadily. “It’s what you’re good at.” I hit the END button, grasping the phone tightly and trying to will away my wayward nerves.

For a few moments there was silence in the car. I finally mustered the courage to look over at Frank and found him already watching me. There was no judgement in his gaze, no expectation, just silent concern in his eyes.

I suddenly felt so drained now that the anger was ebbing away. I just wanted... _god I don’t even know what I wanted._

The next thing I knew I was leaning back in my seat and scooting closer to him, laying my head back on his shoulder. He stiffened slightly and was still for a moment...and then he was lifting his arm up so that I could settle deeper into the crook of his shoulder.

He draped his arm carefully over mine. It was such a strange but comforting moment. Such a innocuous thing, to be laying my head on his shoulder, his arm around me...and yet it felt like some invisible line had been crossed. Like I had just committed some sort of unspoken crime, but I didn’t care...

I luxuriated in the feeling, the comforting touch, breathing in that heady scent of his cologne, the warmth of his body next to mine...

I reached over and laid my hand over his injured hand. “So what happens now?”

“We get you out of town for a little while.” His voice was rough as gravel. He cleared his throat slightly.

“Where are we going?”

“My dad has a place upstate at Lake Tahoe.”

“And he won’t mind hiding a fugitive actress for a little while?” I ventured with half-hearted amusement.

“He’s in Florida visiting my brother.” I heard the smile in his voice. “I don’t think he’ll mind as long as we stay out of his bourbon.”

I huffed out a pale laugh. “I’ll try my hardest to resist.” The smile faded from my lips as I took a steadying breath. “So what do I tell Roman?”

“Do you trust him?”

I paused. _Christ_. I honestly didn’t know how to respond. A month ago I wouldn’t have hesitated. _Something just felt...different now. Did I really trust Roman?_

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Then you don’t tell him anything,” he said firmly.

Silence fell heavily in the car. I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear.

“I trust Roxy.”

I felt him nod.

God I was so _frazzled_. These last few weeks had been so bizarre. Stalkers and overzealous directors, floundering movies and paparazzi, an intruder in my home, and _god I was so tired of it all_. I knew I was just being ridiculous and vulnerable but _Christ_...

All I wanted to do in that moment was to curl into Frank’s chest, drink in his solid presence with all my senses and just lose myself. But it wasn’t all innocence in that feeling either...

I wanted to climb into his lap. I wanted to kiss him, taste him, let the warmth of his body infuse me. _God I wanted his hands on me_...those beautiful powerful hands pressing, grabbing, coaxing. These were dangerous thoughts to be having... _god he was right here next to me...and god he smelled so good..._

I closed my eyes and concentrated on willing down my racing pulse, the flush that was threatening to overtake my cheeks again. I listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear and tried to sync my breathing with the rise and fall of his chest...

But fuck, I couldn’t help it.

“Thank you, Frank,” I whispered. I turned my head to kiss his cheek but lost my target, pressing my lips into that little spot under his jaw, just below his ear.

I felt his heartbeat quicken under my lips...

 

*********

to be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

 Part 4

 

 

 

*Y/N*

 

“Wow,” Roxie said again as she zipped my suitcase closed. She still had that silly little smile on her face. 

I cast a bemused glance at her from the bathroom as I stowed my shampoo and conditioner in my toiletry bag. “That’s the third time you’ve said that Rox,” I admonished gently. 

She laughed. “Well,” she replied as she looked up. Her smile widened. “What else is there to say?”

_Fair enough I suppose._

Roxy had met us at the door when we arrived back at the house. Before she had the chance to ask where Roman and Omar were, Frank was taking me gently by the arm and telling me quietly to get packed, that we’d be leaving in 20 minutes. Of course Roxy had seen Frank’s bloodied hand wrapped in my scarf and her startled expression was priceless. We exchanged a quick meaningful look and she followed me upstairs to my bedroom.

I told her everything that happened at Wojo’s once we made to the privacy of my room. She had stared at me as I told her the story, wide-eyed with that cryptic little smile. “Wow,” was all that she had said. 

_Maybe ‘wow’ was actually quite appropriate._

The rest of the ride back from the studio with Frank had passed in silence. He had seemed tense after that wayward kiss on his neck, and I was quietly mortified. It wasn’t as if he had recoiled or moved away or anything. Quite the contrary, he had remained close, his arm still draped over me. But I was sure I could feel the tension in his body, the tautness of his chest and arms, his pulse still rapid under my ear as I lay against his shoulder.

_Dammit._ I was embarrassed now. I really hadn’t wanted to make him uncomfortable. I suppose it was just a moment of weakness really. But _god_ , he just felt so good, strong and solid against me, smelled so delicious, and just...just made me feel so... _god I don’t even know_...

The last 24 hours had been so bizarre.

Admittedly I was still a little shaken by this whole chaotic experience... and yet there was also a blanket of calm enveloping me, safe and reassuring. 

Frank had been there. Frank had protected me.

And now here I was. Packing for my little secret excursion with this man. This man I was _wanting_ more and more with each passing day...

And just like that, I began to realize with burgeoning clarity that it really wasn’t what happened at the station that had me feeling jittery now...

It was that Frank was about to whisk me off to some secluded hideaway with him. Just the two of us. That thought made my cheeks begin to heat. My overactive imagination suddenly bombarded me with visions of a dimly lit room, a bearskin rug in front of a fireplace...  _powerful hands gripping my hips, warm wet kisses, skin sliding on skin, breathy moans, and more more more..._

I swallowed, half-heartedly banishing the imagery aside. I zipped up my toiletry bag just a touch too roughly in my fluster. “Well aside from wow, Rox: are you going to say anything else?” I teased.

She grinned over at me again. “It’s going to be a little more chilly up north. I packed you some warm clothes. Gotta stay nice and toasty, you know.”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah...um, thanks, Rox.”

_A warm crackling fire, undulating shadows, stormy green eyes, the taste of sweat misted skin firm under my tongue, more more more..._

I coughed and nearly stumbled over my own feet as I made my way back into the bedroom. “I, um...I haven’t said anything to Roman about where I’m going.”

Her smile waned as her expression softened. “Okay. What should I tell him?”

“I dunno. I guess...just tell him I’ll be in touch. I’ve got my cellphone.” I sighed and shoved my things into my duffel. “God, everything has just been so crazy...”

She nodded sympathetically and abruptly pulled me into a tight hug. “Hey,” she said seriously, “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of things back here. I can handle the little drama queen publicist. Forget all of this. Just go.” The little smile returned, more gleeful than ever as she released me. “And have a good time.”

I shook my head fondly. “Thank you, Rox.” Gathering up my bags, I blew out a quiet breath as I headed for the door.  _Christ. Here we go..._

“Oh, Y/N,” Roxy called. I looked over to see her holding up my little pink packet of birth control pills. “Don’t forget these...” She grinned wickedly but her eyes twinkled with humor. 

I laughed, cheeks aflame, and snatched them from her, tucking them into my purse. “Don’t get any ideas, Rox.”

She shrugged innocently. “I’m just saying...” She giggled. “How often does one get a hot date and a romantic getaway vacation all rolled into one?”

 

*********

  

*Frank*

 

I clasped my suitcase closed and glanced down at my watch.

_We need to leave in 5._

I was pacing. I made a quick survey around the bedroom to make sure I had packed everything. It was pointless I knew. I was used to living out of a suitcase. I never left anything behind.

Truthfully I was a mass of distraction since we arrived back at the house....

Even more truthfully, I was a mass of distraction since the car.

There she was holding my hand so carefully in hers, looking up at me with those sultry eyes, that vulnerable expression on her beautiful face so close, licking her pouty lips, _and_   _Christ almighty I had almost kissed her! I had almost thrown consequence out the fucking window! What the fuck was I thinking?!?_

I had nearly composed myself by the time she had gotten off the phone with Roman. Until she laid back and put her head on my shoulder....

Until she had curled into my side, turned her face into my neck, brushed her lips into that spot- _that fucking spot_ -under my jaw, pressed those lips into my skin...

I scrubbed a hand over my face, glanced down uselessly at my watch again and took a steadying breath.

_Christ this might be a very bad idea..._

I had called my buddy Rick from Travel Logistics last night to arrange a private plane from Los Angeles to Lake Tahoe, and a vehicle when we got there. Rick and I went way back to the old days in the Navy. He had started his own private travel company when he got out. I was the dumbass who decided to go federal. I knew he was discreet, and that was the most important part of this ridiculous plan.

I was about to be alone with her at my dad’s cabin upstate. Alone for what was possibly several days. Alone in a cabin in the woods...

Boundaries seemed very feeble at this point.

_Fuck_.

_Motherfucking_ _boundaries._ Theyare essential in this job, but they aren’t the only rules...

When you’re on the move, you never let the client out of your sight. 

You make decisions and you don’t let the client argue with you about them.

You remain professional at all times. 

You don’t let emotions cloud your judgement. 

And you certainly, most fucking certainly, don’t entertain the notion of kissing your client...of wondering how her body would feel naked and warm and soft against you...of wanting her under you, hot and wet and gasping your name...

_Fuck_.

But if I was truly honest with myself...I knew it wouldn’t stop with fucking her. It couldn’t be a casual dalliance. There would be no surviving after touching her like that.

Forget the list. That would be the be-all, end-all mistake.

_Jesus_ , I already felt like I was getting in over my head with this woman. It was more than the fact that she was gorgeous, and genuine, and sexy and so _goddamn_ irresistible. What was so alarming was the fact of how _effortless_ it was. She had gotten under my skin without even trying. And it was even more than that... 

I felt compelled to protect her in a way that I had never experienced before. I couldn’t leave her side, and furthermore _I didn’t want_ to leave her side. 

It was a compulsion...a goddamn visceral compulsion. 

And it was dangerous thing.

I couldn't afford to get confused about my job here. I couldn’t afford to be so distracted. Not when her safety was on the line. I had already allowed myself to get distracted once and a maniac had successfully penetrated the house. I couldn’t let something like that happen again.

I stopped pacing before I was in danger of wearing a groove into the floor. I had been unconsciously clenching my fists, and my right hand gave a throb of protest. I glanced over to the dresser where I had lain Y/N’s ruined scarf.

_God, this woman..._

I heard her voice distantly from the downstairs foyer, presumably talking to the lady assistant. _She’s ready. We should go..._

_Christ almighty, Farmer. It’s now or never. Do your job._

_Just do your job._

 

*********

 

*Y/N*

 

The ride to the airport was just as quiet as the one back from Wojo’s, though thankfully the silence wasn’t as awkward this time. It was a comfortable silence now. Frank seemed more focused certainly, but at least he didn’t appear to be uncomfortable. 

Of course this time he was seated a safe distance away from me in the backseat of the Escalade.

We were just pulling up the the hangars in the private plane sector of LAX airport. There was a tall blonde man with a weather-beaten face and dark sunglasses standing in the deserted parking lot. His arms were crossed over his chest, a wide grin splitting his face as we pulled up.

“Who’s that?” I asked, looking over at Frank.

He chuckled. “That would be my buddy Rick. I suspect he’s here to see us off. And I apologize in advance...”

I raised a brow and smiled. “Oh?”

“Oh yeah,” he sighed and then smirked good-naturedly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The driver parked the Escalade and hopped out to open my door. “Thanks, David,” I said gratefully as I stepped out. “Would you mind grabbing the bags?”

He nodded. “O-o-of course, ma’am,” he stuttered slightly. Poor guy, he was apparently still a little uneasy after our dramatic escape from Wojo’s. Lord, could I sympathize...

I offered him a re-assuring smile as I shouldered my purse. “Hey, why don’t you go ahead and take the rest of the week off, David. Roxy can call you when we come back in town.”

The relief washed over his face palpably. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Um-have a nice flight.” He smiled palely and then moved to unload the car.

I glanced over to see Frank shaking hands with Rick. Their conversation was just out of earshot, but I saw Rick throw his head back, laughing loudly in response to whatever Frank had said.

Frank turned as I approached. “Y/N, this is Rick Colby, my old Navy pal. He made your arrangements for getting out of town.”

Rick scoffed. “Old, huh? Not hardly.” He extended his hand, flashing me a mega watt smile. “Miss Y/L/N. It’s an honor and a pleasure.” As I took his hand to shake it, he pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “And may I say,” he cooed sweetly, “you are even more beautiful in person.”

I laughed, taken aback as he released my hand. “Er-thank you. You are very kind, Mr. Colby.”

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Frank shoot him a withering look.

“I take very good care of my clients,” Rick continued with just the hint of a leer. “The pilot will bring you to a private airstrip outside of South Lake and a car will be waiting. After that,” he grinned over at Frank, “You’ll be in Frank’s capable hands.”

_Mmmm...God, don’t I wish..._

_Jesus, stop it, Y/N!_

“Thanks, buddy,” Frank hummed impatiently. “We can take it from here.” One of those ‘capable’ hands landed warmly on the small of my back as he steered me towards the hangar, and it sent a familiar wave of tingles up my spine.

“No problem. See you around, Samurai!” Rick called to our backs.

I glanced over at Frank and giggled. “Samurai?”

A brief smile flitted over his mouth, a barely-there flush on his cheekbones. “It’s an old nickname,” he remarked evasively. “A long time ago, a different life.”

_Hmmm...how intriguing._

It was a relatively quick flight to South Lake Tahoe, but my god it was like landing in a completely different world. Gone were the cosmopolitan urban backdrops of Hollywood, and in their place was something like an idyllic mountain retreat. 

I stepped off the stairway from the plane and took a deep breath of blessedly smog-free air. All around the confines of the airstrip were vast stretches of gigantic pines. The snow dusted peaks of the Sierra Nevada mountains rose regally over their tops. It was as if we had been dropped into the middle of a national park. 

And _Jesus_ , it really was colder out here. It felt like the temperature had dropped 20 degrees since we left Los Angeles.

As promised, there was a black Chevy Tahoe parked near a column of trailers at the end of the airstrip. There were a smattering of men in utility clothes milling around a black helicopter in the distance.

_What is this place?_

Frank was already unloading our bags from the plane’s underbelly compartment, slinging luggage straps over this shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re not secretly a spy, Frank?” I teased as I strolled over. “I think we just landed at some classified location.”

He huffed a laugh. “Not quite. This place belongs to California Wildlife and Fisheries. Rick has a lot of connections.”

“Ah I see,” I remarked and peered over at the helicopter again. A brisk cold wind rolled over me, cutting through my sweater like it wasn’t even there and I shivered involuntarily.  _Dammit, I really should have gotten a coat out of my suitcase before we left._

“Here,” I heard Frank say, and when I looked over he was already setting the bags on the ground. I blinked at him curiously until I saw him shrugging out of his jacket.

I watched him as he rolled his shoulders out of the sleeves, the material of his polo shirt pulled tight against his broad chest and the wide expanse of his shoulders. My god.

He moved behind me, holding the jacket open as I slipped my arms into it. I was suddenly awash in the subtle scent of his cologne on the collar. I breathed in deeply, cardamom and vetiver infusing my senses. He settled the jacket over me, his palms heavy and wide on the back of my shoulders. I could feel the solid heat of his frame behind me, and had to resist the urge to lean back into his body.

“Ready?” He asked softly at my ear, so guileless but nevertheless the warmth of his breath on my neck sent my heart leaping into my throat.

My god.

_He’s a professional, Y/N. His interest in you in purely professional....right?_

I was distantly aware that I needed to respond. “Ready when you are,” I said, dragging my voice out of my throat as I turned back to him. “And thank you.”

He silent a moment. “No problem,” he said quietly. A small half smile curled over his lips, delicate crinkles appearing at the corners of those deep green eyes as he regarded me. And god, for a few frantic seconds I was weak-kneed and utterly lost in his gaze.

_God help me. How am I going to survive this trip?_

 

 

*********


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting a little steamier...

Part 5

 

 

 

*Y/N*

 

I gazed over at Frank, awe-struck at my surroundings. “So this is where you grew up?”

He shook his head. “No, not entirely. We moved out here just before I started high school.”

We were pulling up to a beautiful two-story wooden house at the end of a winding gravel driveway. It was as if it had materialized out of the forest itself, all long clean slats of wood and huge airy windows. There was a wrap-around porch and a wide second story balcony. Behind it the lake emerged from the thick tree line and stretched vast and choppy to the shoreline far beyond.

This was not the cabin in the woods I had imagined. The forest, the lake, the mountains. It was a breath-taking view, like something straight off of a postcard.

Frank parked the Tahoe in front of the porch and I stepped out, taking it all in. I could see a little path down to the lake, shimmering in the late afternoon sun, and a small boat anchored to a wooden pier. I drew a breath listening to the distant warble of bird-calls in the crisp air. God, it was like another world here.

“Frank, this is really beautiful,” I breathed, looking over to where he was unloading the car. He glanced up and smiled almost shyly at my words before he resumed removing the luggage. “Thanks. My dad and I have been working on it here and there over the years.”

“I suppose this is the perfect spot for hiding a fugitive actress, huh?” I quipped. “I don’t imagine you get too many unexpected visitors here.”

“No,” he conceded as he slung the bags over his shoulders. “At least not the human kind. Just the wildlife.”

I raised a brow. “Wildlife, huh?”

He shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Deer, fox, coyotes, maybe a bear once in a blue moon.” 

My mouth dropped open. “Coyotes and bears. You’re kidding, right?”

He chuckled and made his way up the porch to the door. “Don’t worry. Animals aren't the kind of predators you need to worry about.”

I scoffed as I followed, drawing a little closer to him as he unlocked the front door. “Easy for you to say. Until there’s a bear running us down.”

I watched him try to suppress a grin as he let the door swing open. “There’s always going to be predators anywhere you go, Y/N. Some are easier to deal with than others.” He flashed me a wry smirk. “I promise nothing’s going to eat you. I won’t allow it.”

I hummed dubiously. “Gee, that’s comforting.”

He swatted at me playfully with a bag. “C’mon, get in there before I change my mind.”

I laughed, moving past him into the foyer. Wow, there really wasn’t a shred of drywall in this place. It was all tall wood walls and huge floor to ceiling windows. I strolled into the living room and  _oh god help me_  there was a large stone fireplace, though no bearskin rug in front of it. Instead there was plain grey rug flanked by two overstuffed leather couches and a carved wooden coffee table.

_No bearskin rug. Too bad. The grey one looks soft enough though..._

_Jesus, Y/N get ahold of yourself._

Frank’s voice cut through my wayward thoughts. “C’mon upstairs, I’ll show you to your room.”

I followed him upstairs to the end of a long hallway. My attention was caught by a wall of framed photographs to my right. Many of them were of Frank, obviously younger then, with an older couple I assumed were his mother and father. In several of them, they appeared to be at various kinds of martial arts competitions, with Frank clad in a white gi robe with medals around his neck.

“Well, what do we have here?” I smiled over at Frank.

He shrugged noncommittally. “I did a lot of martial arts as a kid. Karate, judo, aikido. I got into kendo and jujitsu in the Navy when I was stationed in Japan.”

“Oh, I see. Is that where ‘Samurai’ came from?”

“Might have been,” he said evasively and grinned as he set down my bags on the bed.

“Well, well, well,” I trilled as I took a turn around the room. It was large but cozy, with more airy windows and tall bookshelves. There was a sliding glass door to the balcony overlooking the lake. I sat down on the bed next to where he stood, leaning back and crossing my legs as I looked up at him. “So is this your bedroom?”

His eyes widened just a fraction and he cleared his throat. “No. Guest room.” He took a step back to a safer distance. “You’ve got your own bathroom, shower...and uh, I’ll be right down the hall.”

I resisted the urge to smile, taking delight in his discomfiture. Frank didn’t seem to be a man easily ruffled. It was a very compelling thing, and I was seized with the sudden impulse to toy with him a little. To see just how far I could push with a little more flirtation....

He cleared his throat again. “I’ll uh, I’ll let you get settled. There’s a little diner in town, we can grab an early dinner if you want.”

I raised a playful brow. “That depends...” I rose to my feet, taking a measured step into his personal space. “Am I accompanying to you to a meal? Or are you asking me out to dinner?”

He had shifted on his feet as I closed the distance between us. But he did not retreat. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching me carefully. “I didn’t know there was a difference,” he said gamely, refusing to take the bait.

I smiled coquettishly, biting my lip. “The difference is you need to ask me,” I said softly, looking up at him through my lashes. “Can you do that, Frank?”

He swallowed, silent a moment. And just like that, the tables seemed to turn. I watched the cautious expression dissolve from his face, and a small smile flickered over his mouth. He uncrossed his arms, edging closer to me until we were mere millimeters apart. He met my eyes fully, his gaze hooded. “I’d like to take you to dinner, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice lowering an octave. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

_Oh my._

It was my turn to swallow, my mouth going dry. “Yes,” I said just a little too breathily. “Yes, I would.”

I was almost sure I saw the hint of a self-satisfied smile. “Good,” he said simply, his eyes on me as he stepped back towards the door. “I’ll go get changed.”

 

*********

 

*Frank*

 

“Another voicemail from Roman,” she sighed looking down at the phone in her lap. “I think that’s the fourth one. Should I suck it up and call him?”

I glanced over at her as I pulled onto the highway. Her phone had started ringing as soon as we got into the car and she had quickly silenced it. I hadn’t asked who it was. It really wasn’t any of my business. 

“Do you want to call him?”

She laughed that musical laugh. “Absolutely not. No doubt he’s in full meltdown mode right now.”

I felt a kind of dark satisfaction in that. That little prick deserved it. I was glad she wasn’t going to let him keep pestering her. I was starting to develop a distinct distaste for the way he was always trying to push her into things she didn’t want to do. I nodded firmly. “Then you don’t call him.”

“Then I don’t call him,” she repeated with a smile. “Well then, tell me where we’re headed.”

I made a quick glance in the rearview mirror. The roadway was empty. “Little place called Dolly’s. It’s one of my dad’s favorite places to go.” I paused. “Fair warning though, it’s not exactly fine cuisine.”

She was shaking her head. “Don’t be silly. It sounds perfect.” 

“We should probably hit the grocery store before we head back,” I continued. “Dad keeps the house pretty well stocked, but the forecast says a snow system is moving through tonight.”

“Snow? Seriously? Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Could be. Depends how heavy it gets.”

“I’m a southern girl, remember?” she laughed. “The closest I’ve ever been to snow was on a movie set, and even then it was just a bunch of shaved ice they showered all over us.”

I chuckled. “You might change your mind if we end up snowed in at the house.”

“I don’t think that would be so bad, do you?”

I looked over at her, she was smiling that knowing smile, gaze aglow with teasing. She looked like temptation itself in an oversized coat, and  _goddamn_ I had to tear my eyes away to watch the road. 

By the grace of God, I managed to get us to Dolly’s without running the car into a ditch.

When we walked in, I directed her to a booth in the back. The place was only sparsely full. No doubt most people were already out getting provisions in case the snow got heavy tonight. I took a quick survey of the other patrons as we sat down. An elderly couple, a family with children, a table of college age kids...nobody on their own, nobody that seemed to present a threat.

Of course my rational mind didn’t anticipate any problems. Nobody knew she was coming out here. And anyway, a little town of the edge of the major cities was going to be quiet. But still, the awareness wasn’t something you could just turn off. And that was probably best. Bad things can happen if you get too complacent or comfortable.

She pulled off her oversized coat. She was wearing a simple grey sweater, form fitting, with a dropping cowl neckline that fell over the elegant curves of her shoulders. Her long hair was draped over the graceful slope of her neck. And god she looked so lovely.

I dropped my eyes down to the menu in front of me.

“So now that we’re in your hometown, tell me a little about the illustrious life of Frank Farmer.”

I shook my head, eyes still firmly glued to the menu. “Not much to tell really.”

“You’re a very closed book sometimes, Frank,” she hummed. “How about starting with what you did after high school?”

I shrugged, hazarding a glance back up at her. “I played football for West Virginia State, got into ROTC, did a few years with the Navy after college, and then I got recruited by the Secret Service.”

Her eyes widened. “So did you ever guard the President?”

“Two years with George Jr. and four with Obama.”

“Wow, that’s impressive” she smiled. “So why would you ever want to leave that?”

“Better money in private security.”

She scoffed skeptically. “You don’t strike me as a big spender, Frank. C’mon, what really happened?”

I took a breath. And damn, her expression was so sincerely attentive, those bright eyes focused right on me. I found myself talking before I could think twice about it. “My mom was diagnosed with cancer. She was okay for a little while, but uh things started getting worse towards the end. My dad was in a bad way...My brother was down in Florida, but he couldn’t always get away.”

I dropped my gaze. _Shit this really wasn’t something I liked to talk about_. But I was starting to realize that was just the thing about her. She was so disarming, I kept finding myself talking about things that I was never comfortable discussing before.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

I thumbed absently at a torn corner of the menu. “It’s ok...” I looked up again and met her eyes. Christ, that face looked even more beautiful with her delicate brows knit with concern... 

She was silent for a beat. “So let me get this straight,” she said tactfully changing the subject, “so you’ve been a college football player, naval officer, martial arts master, Secret Service agent and a bodyguard.” She smiled. “God Frank, you’re amazing. You’ve had a much more accomplished life than mine.”

I felt a flush threatening to creep up my neck at her praise. “Nah, I doubt that very seriously. I’ve just...you know...always stayed busy.” I dropped my voice to stay out of earshot of the other patrons. “You, on the other hand are a world famous actress. It doesn’t even begin to compare.”

“Are you kidding me?” She laughed, eyes glittering. “Do you know what I was doing before I finally got my big break into film acting?”

I shook my head. “Modeling?”

She threw me an amused look. “That’s very sweet, Frank. But no...” She took an exaggerated breath. “I was a waitress.”

I chuckled. “You were not.”

“I was! Here I’ll show you,” she said with a grin and picked up a plate from the table, balancing it atop her fingertips. She put her other hand on her waist with a coy cock of her hips. “Welcome to Dolly’s Diner, sir,” she purred. “Would you like to hear our special tonight?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, absolutely.”

“It’s a...” she paused, considering. “An actor’s souffle. “

“An actor’s souffle, huh? Sounds delicious.”

“Oh no, I don’t recommend it, sir,” she said with a look of bemused horror. “Everyone knows an actor is overpriced, utterly full of itself and served completely overdone.”

I laughed. “That’s very good. You should do comedy.”

She sighed as the replaced the plate on the tabletop. “God, I wish. I’m sure it would be much more fulfilling than this trainwreck of a movie I’m doing now. I’d even be willing to do some cheesy horror flick. At least that would be fun.”

I shook my head. “You could do anything you want to do,” I replied seriously. “And the ‘trainwreck’ isn’t your fault. You may have gotten roped into a mess, but ultimately you can still call the shots.”

She placed her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her upturned palm, looking up at me with those sparkling eyes. “Do what I want to do, and ‘fuck everybody else’, right?”

I smirked. “Absolutely right.”

“My god, Frank Farmer, where have you been all my life?” she laughed with a teasing smile. I felt a flush creeping up my neck again.

_Christ._

“Frank?” I heard a female’s voice call out. “Frank Farmer, is that you?”

I turned to see Carol Kincaid bustling over with a cheery smile. Carol had been one of my mom’s best friends. Her husband Larry and my dad still went fishing together every Sunday during the summer. God, I hadn’t seen her in years...

“Mrs. Kincaid.” I stood up from the table as she approached and she hugged me tightly. 

“Oh, little Frank, I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age!  I was just asking your father about you the other day. How are you?”

I glanced over at Y/N, who was still smiling, eyes keen with interest. “Doing well, ma’am. How is Larry?”

“Oh, you know that old coot. Always trying to find new ways to drive me crazy.” She looked over at Y/N and I watched her face light up. “And who’s your lovely friend?”

Before I had a chance to consider a believable response, Y/N was already extending her hand to Carol cheerfully. “Hi, I’m Rita.” She cast me a suspiciously playful grin. “Frank’s fiancé.”

_Oh god help me._

Carol practically radiated with joy as she shook Y/N’s hand. “Oh! It’s so wonderful to meet you! My goodness, it’s about time Frank settled down. I’ve always said he does far too much traveling around.” She nodded satisfactorily. “A bachelor’s life is so empty. A man needs to put down roots eventually, you know.”

“Of course,” Y/N smiled over at me. Her expression was of such complete delight with herself in this ruse, I couldn’t even a manage a half-hearted glower at her. I settled for sighing quietly and shooting her a look of mock annoyance. She winked in reply.

“You know you look so familiar, Rita,” Carol continued. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Y/N raised her brows innocently. “You know I hear that a lot.”

I nearly laughed out loud.

Carol gave us her most effusive congratulations before she hugged me again and said her goodbyes. I smirked over at Y/N as I sat down. “Rita, huh?”

“Rita Hayworth,” she giggled. “Sorry, it was the first thing that came to mind. I’ve always been a fan of the old film noir starlets. Rita Hayworth, Lauren Bacall, Ava Gardner...” 

“Well, I can see the appeal. You certainly don’t fit the mold of any modern celebrity actress I’ve ever met.”

She smiled, twining her fingers. “Well, the Golden Age starlets always seemed so powerful, you know? Pretty and sophisticated and classy.” She sighed, her smile falling as she looked down at her hands. “You’d certainly never see one of them playing a stripper of all things in some nightmare avant-garde movie.”

I watched her for a moment. Even under the glare of the diner lights, she looked absolutely gorgeous. And it honestly wouldn’t have mattered where we were. She was always radiant, putting her surroundings to shame no matter where she was, like a diamond in a pile of cinders. 

“You look better than any and all of them put together,” I said quietly. 

She looked up quickly, and her lips parted as if she didn’t know how to reply. Those bright eyes regarded me so keenly like she could see right into me, like there was something exposed before her. Something I couldn’t hope to conceal. The moment seemed to stretch, snared in time as we looked at each other... and god I felt compelled to tell her more...

That she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on, that her genuine heart and character made her even more alluring, that I would give anything to touch her... _but I couldn’t_. I couldn’t cross that line, and it was fucking eating me alive.

I pulled myself from her gaze and cleared my throat, urgently breaking the spell before I said something truly disastrous. “The uh, the burgers are really good here...”

_Jesus, Farmer. Smooth._

She was smiling again. “A burger would be great,” she said softly. 

 

*********

 

*Y/N*

 

The first thing I remember thinking when I met Frank downstairs to go to dinner was, _o_ _h holy hell this man has on jeans._..I didn’t even trust myself to check out how nice his ass must look. I held out about as long as took to get to the restaurant. There he was leading me to a table, and I just couldn’t help myself...

And yes, his ass is lovely in denim. I think the image will be forever burned in my memory of the figure he cut. His broad torso, the lines of his back in that black sweater that dipped into his trim waist...the compact curve of his ass...long legs squared in a solid stance. Lord, it was delicious, more than enough to give any woman the vapors.

The second thing I remember thinking was how normal it all felt. Just going out to dinner with guy. No entourage of people around me, no worry about being hounded by paparazzi... 

_It was so normal! It was so nice!_ Talking and laughing and flirting with a man. But then again Frank certainly wasn’t any normal man. Besides the fact that he was unfairly handsome and ridiculously sexy....he was so enigmatic. He just seemed to play everything so close to the vest, and yet when we talked he was so open, kind and sincere. It was a fascinating dichotomy: the stoic samurai and the sweet, approachable gentleman.

I found myself sneaking glances at him later on as he was driving us back home. Watching him as he surveyed the passing streets, silently evaluating the vehicles around us. He seemed so self-contained, always assessing and calculating factors that I couldn't begin to fathom. If we stopped for a traffic light or an intersection, he would straighten in his seat, his eyes continuously moving. His body would still in suppressed motion so subtly, but I was almost sure I could see the coil of his muscles like he was prepared to spring into action at any moment.

It was curious to watch him in his element like that. He made it look so effortless. God, I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be so continuously hyper-alert on a regular basis. Maybe that was the price you paid as a bodyguard. You could never truly relax, never fully enjoy a moment’s peace...

It seemed like a terribly lonely thing...

And in that respect I could most definitely sympathize. And maybe that was the price of fame too. You never quite feel at peace. You can be surrounded by a sea of people: an entourage, fans, reporters, agents, paparazzi...and still feel completely alone. Like an island in the middle of the ocean. 

Jesus, I was so tired of being an island. I was sick of being starved for connection. 

I remembered to text Roxy when we pulled back up to the cabin. I had been so distracted since we got here, I had completely forgotten to check in and let her know we had arrived safely. I sent her a quick text and she replied almost immediately:

‘ **Ok, good. Have fun and be safe honey!’**

It would have been an innocently sweet sentiment if she hadn’t followed it with a string of heart-eyed smiley faces and eggplant emojis.

_Jesus_.

There was a moment when we got back to the house, Frank and I were standing at the top of the stairs saying our good nights, and god...I was looking at him in that black sweater, those damn tormenting jeans, taking in his handsome features...those deep green eyes on me, the hard edge of his jaw, the curve of his lips as he smiled and murmured goodnight...and god I wanted nothing more than to just grab him by the face and kiss him. 

_Lord, Y/N get a hold of yourself..._

I dithered around the bedroom for several minutes afterwards, unpacking some of my things, scanning the titles on the bookshelves... contemplating the idea of mustering the courage to ask Frank to join me for a nightcap drink. 

_No, that probably wouldn’t work. I’ve never seen him drink anything alcoholic. Maybe he doesn’t drink period. Maybe he doesn’t drink because he gets a little wild when he’s drunk...a little disinhibited...a little amorous...ugh, stop it Y/N!_

I sighed and walked over to the sliding glass door. A chilly gust of wind glided over me as I opened it. The night was so still, cold and dark. I stepped out onto the balcony, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth. In the darkness, I saw that the balcony led down to another sliding glass door. There was dim light coming from inside. Frank’s bedroom.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I tentatively strolled a little closer until I could see just a sliver of a desk and blue quilted bed beyond the glass, the shut door of the bathroom. 

I remembered that night in the screening room. Frank sitting there in his open collared shirt, shirt sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms...his large hands steepled in front of him, his piercing gaze focused on the screen as he watched me dancing...

_Girl, what on earth are you doing???_

I sighed. This was absurd and ridiculously voyeuristic. I was just about to turn around and head back to my room when the fucking bathroom door opened...

There was a dissipating cloud of steam billowing from the doorway and _oh holy fuck_ , there was Frank apparently just out of the shower. My god. He was wet and flushed with a towel slung low around his hips and _oh goddamn_...

Water droplets clung to his broad muscular torso, trickled down his chiseled arms. A slick sheen of moisture covered the dusting of dark hair on his chest, that same dark hair trailing down the lithe planes of his abdomen and disappearing into the waistline of his towel. 

_Oh my god,_ he looked so good and my core gave a sudden traitorous ache, so sharply I found myself unconsciously rubbing my thighs together. 

_Jesus, this was Frank most definitely out of uniform_. Just looking at him, I could almost feel that muscular chest under my hands solid and warm...those hard planes of his abdomen slick beneath my fingertips as I traced them down into his towel...

He was running a hand through his wet hair, his thick bicep curled and flexed and _oh holy shit_ he could look over at any moment and see me standing here...

_Jesus, Y/N! Move! You can’t let him see you out here ogling him like some kind of peeping Tom!_

With a monumental surge of will, I forced my feet into action, nearly stumbling over myself as I beat a hasty retreat across the balcony. My cheeks felt absolutely aflame and they stung in the cold night air. With the stealth of a fucking ninja, I quietly opened my sliding glass door and slipped back into my room. 

For a few moments, I just leaned back against the glass as the cold began to retreat from my limbs. But even as the chill began to ebb away, a nervous jittery feeling took its place. I felt the most absurd urge to start pacing the room. But _ugh god_ it was more than that. The ache between my legs still lingered, and god help me my fucking panties felt damp.

_God, get a grip Y/N! Are you so hard up that you can’t even look at a half-naked man without going into heat?_

_Yes. Yes, I am that hard up._

But even if I wasn’t...god it was Frank! _It was him!_ That’s all there was to it. 

Rather than continue to wallow in self-recrimination, I stalked into the bathroom, stripping off clothes in my wake. I turned the shower knob with a frustrated jerk and stepped into the freezing water with a gasp. It was cathartic and I stood there for several moments while the sting of the cold evaporated under the rapidly warming water.

God I wanted him. This was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. And I needed relief.

My overactive imagination was in complete overdrive. In my mind I was in Frank’s room, utterly bare before his piercing gaze...brushing my lips over his, teasingly gentle...pulling the towel slowly down his hips...

My hand drifted down between my legs, my hips bucking involuntary at the delicious friction and oh god, I imagined him grabbing me up in his powerful arms, pinning me down on the bed with those large amazing hands, and capturing my mouth in a desperately passionate kiss. I imagined my legs wrapping around his waist, begging him breathlessly not to stop.

I could see his beautiful green eyes heavy and fogged with desire. I could hear his growl of need as I arched up against his raging hard-on. 

_Mmmm, god I bet he has the most amazing cock..._

My fingertips brushed firmly against my clit, wishing it was him rubbing that hard cock between my legs, too lost with lust to wait any longer. And then he was kissing me deeply and oh fuck filling me with one sharp merciless thrust. “ _Oooh god, yes! Oh Frank please.._.” I heard myself moaning wantonly.

My lust kicked up a few more impossible notches as I imagined him pounding into me with abandon, all restraint cast aside. Fucking me roughly, wildly, as if he couldn’t stop himself from utterly ravishing me. 

My legs were trembling, my climax rising so quickly it would have startled me if I had been anywhere near my right mind. 

God, I could almost feel the heat of his mouth consuming mine, the hard muscles of his back under my hands, tense and taut as impaled me on his throbbing cock over and over. Making me cry out in ecstasy with every deep powerful thrust. And just imagining the beautifully tortured expression of pleasure on his his face, the low sound of his groans... _my god_ it just careened me over the edge. I came fast and hard, damn near whimpering at the intensity with _his name_ falling brokenly from my lips.

I leaned back against the wall of the shower, still shuddering with the aftershocks, trying to steady myself as my breath began to slow. The ache in my core was still pulsing almost mockingly. 

_Oh god what the fuck am I doing to myself?_

Fantasizing about Frank and coming so hard I saw stars...

_God help me, I am so fucked..._

 

*********

 

*Frank*

 

 

I pulled a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants out of the dresser drawer, ready to call it a night. After I dressed, I headed downstairs to make a quick check of the house before turning in.

It was nice being home, even though it was ostensibly for a job related purpose. The house hadn’t changed at all. Everything was just as neat and tidy as when Mom was alive. Now that she was gone, and my brother Morgan and I long moved away, I felt guilty sometimes thinking of Dad out here all by himself. I tried to visit whenever I could, though these last few months I had been so busy bouncing from one job assignment to another.

I always felt more grounded at home, less adrift in the world. Well, I usually did. I was feeling anything but grounded at the moment...

I guess it was supposed to feel different having a client here. Though Y/N was becoming less and less of a ‘client’ in my mind. That in itself had been sounding off the warning bells in my head like goddamn air raid sirens. And yet when I was around her...the sirens were uncannily silent. I was comfortable in her presence. Comfortable and also uncharacteristically nervous at the same time. It was ridiculous, I had never been ‘nervous’ around a client before...

More than anything, I think it was her proximity that had me feeling so tense now. This was much different than staying at her house. Her guest bedrooms were in another wing of the residence for christsakes. There was a stretch of lanai and a pool between her balcony and mine. But here... here she was just a few steps down the hall. Right behind the door. So tantalizingly close...

_Fuck._

Against my better judgement I decided to check in on her one last time. I told myself that I was just being an attentive host, just taking that one last precaution of making sure she was alright before I went to bed.

Remember that list of mistakes? Highlight this one in bold fucking ink.

 

I knocked gently on her door. When there was no response, I cracked it open and was just about to open my mouth and call her name...

I heard the shower running and immediately moved to retreat. And then I heard it. 

A moan. 

An unmistakably sensual and incredibly erotic moan. But before my brain could even process that fucking heart-stopping sound, I heard her voice, husky and desperate...

_“Oooh god, yes! Oh Frank please.._.”

And it rooted me to the spot. I was instantly hard, my cock throbbing to the point of pain. My vision fucking tunneled and I think I must have swayed, because I was suddenly leaning against the doorframe for support. I can’t even describe the sensation of hearing her voice, her voice, low and needy and moaning my name. And the bombarding images in my mind of her wet naked body, hand between her legs and touching herself under the cascading water.... _fuck!_

Christ Almighty, I wanted to barge in there, pin her up against the wall of that shower and just take her. I wanted to fuck her senseless. I wanted to be the the one making her moan like that. I wanted to make her come. I wanted to watch her fall apart for me. To watch it, hear it, feel her coming on my cock, trembling and breathless.

My cock gave a painfully aroused twitch.

_Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this. I can’t fucking do this._

I spun back into the hallway and closed the door as quietly as I could. And fuck me the sound of that beautiful voice moaning my name was still echoing in my head. It felt like my hard-on was about to split the seam of my pants and I palmed it roughly, trying to will it down again. And fuck, even that careless touch had me imagining how slick and tight she would feel grinding down on it. _Fuck!_

I pushed off from the doorframe and charged down the stairs two at a time. I didn’t even know what I was doing or where I was going. My basest instinct was to go lock myself in the bathroom and jerk off because I was too wound up to do anything else. Christ, anything to take the edge off...

But I couldn’t do that. I wanted her. I wanted her so goddamn bad it hurt. But if I ran upstairs and jerked off to her image it would only be a temporary relief. And it seemed like admitting defeat. That I couldn’t handle this. And fuck, maybe that was true...

She was getting off and thinking of me. _Oh god help me...._

_She’s a client, Farmer! Have some motherfucking discipline! Whatever the fuck you’re thinking of doing, think again. She’s a client, she’s a client, she’s a client..._

Dad’s bourbon was looking more and more like a feasible remedy under the circumstances.

I headed into the kitchen and switched on a lamp in the side table. As tempting as the bourbon might be at the moment, I needed to maintain some semblance of self control. I settled for a glass of orange juice and was thankful that I did. The cold was soothing and I downed it in about three gulps. I could feel sweat beading on my brow and I pressed it to the empty glass. 

_Boundaries, Farmer. Boundaries and fucking discipline._

I dropped my arm, clenching the glass in my fist. I rested my other hand on the island countertop, closed my eyes and just fucking breathed.

 

_Christ almighty_. I had spent a lot of years learning not to react to the things other people do. It wasn’t fucking working this time. In fact it was failing spectacularly.

I can’t even tell you how long I stood there like an idiot. I had nearly composed myself into something resembling of a civilized human being when I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Her footsteps on the stairs. 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

I was contemplating the idea of throwing myself out the window when Y/N rounded the corner into the kitchen. She started and gasped when she saw me. “Oh! Frank! I didn’t hear you down here.” Her eyes were wide, cheeks suddenly flushing crimson in the dim light. “I...I didn’t know you were still up.”

And god help me, she was a vision standing there. A wet-haired goddess in a little tank top and pajama pants. The flimsy material of her camisole stretched over the fucking perfect orbs of her breasts, her small pert nipples peaked, and fuck me my mouth was starting to water.

My cock twitched treasonously and I was grateful for the concealment of the island counter.

My throat felt like it was filled with sand. I coughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was uh...just about to go to bed.”

“Oh.” She twined her fingers, looking down. She figited nervously, her cheekbones still dark with that glowing blush. 

_God, there was no way she could know that I’d heard. She couldn’t know..._

And yet here she was, blushing guiltily in the most goddamn sexy way. And here I was drowning in quiet desperation because I wanted nothing more than to put her up on this counter and rip her clothes off.

_Christ, Farmer! Get a goddamn grip!_

“Can I get you anything?” My voice was rough in my throat, barely smoother than a growl. “Is there anything you need?”

She looked up, eyes wide and dark. And _Christ_ , she rubbed her thighs together unconsciously and I nearly dropped my glass. _God, I’ll bet she’s still soaking wet..._

“Any-anything I need?” she stammered. She licked those pouty lips. “Oh...um, I was just going to get a glass of water...”

A task. A distraction. I was fucking desperate for it. I tore my eyes away from her. “Allow me.”

I pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with ice from the freezer. I filled the water from the fridge dispenser and turned to find her standing not a foot away. The dim light of the lamp played over her delicates features, the column of her neck, every fucking mouthwatering curve of her body.

_Christ this is dangerous. This is motherfucking dangerous._

“Thank you,” she said softly, breathily. Her fingers closed over mine as she grasped the glass. And then was stepping closer, closing the distance. She was leaning up into me, pressing her breasts against my chest, kissing me softly on the cheek. Her lips were so plush, brushing against the stubble on my jaw, dragging lightly down to the corner of my mouth...

 

I could feel my chest rising and falling deeply, my heart hammering like I had been running a marathon. I was breathing in the humid clean fragrance of her soap, her shampoo...and I was almost sure I could scent the arousal emanating from her skin like fucking pheromones.

And then she was pulling away and meeting my gaze, her eyes heavy lidded and sultry. I had to clench my fists to keep from pulling her back against me.

“Goodnight, Frank,” she whispered, biting the corner of her lip. 

I swallowed thickly. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

She turned with a small smile, walking back towards the stairs, her hips swaying in the most goddamn seductive way.

 

And _Christ almighty_ if I didn’t know any better I’d think she was toying with me again. She couldn’t possibly know what I’d heard tonight, what I’d imagined... she couldn’t know how frighteningly close I’d come to losing control. And yet there she was with her seductive teasing, her loaded flirting, once again taking delight in getting a rise out of me.

My cock twitched again as if to remind me that she had most definitely succeeded. If she only knew how much...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I wasn’t sure if I wanted Frank to hear Y/N in the shower or not. If you like it the way it is, let me know. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to the ultimately delicious Kevin Costner! ;)  
> I hope you guys will enjoy the latest chapter!

Part 6

 

 

*Y/N*

 

 

 

 

 

I guess it should come as no surprise that I slept absolutely terribly that night. 

_God_...

I tossed and turned in that big comfortable bed for hours. I mean my god, after having an earth-shattering orgasm while fantasizing about Frank ravishing me like an animal, I was hoping I had at least released some of my pent-up tension...

But then I had to walk downstairs and run into him looking like sex on legs in a tight white T-shirt and fucking flannel pajama pants...

And before I could even attempt to play it cool, before I could hope to compose myself... _mmmm_ _god_ he was looking at me with this unexpected hunger in his eyes. I was startled and flustered and turned on and utterly weak in the knees all at the same time.

_God_...He had been staring right into me like I’d been caught red-handed and _holy fuck his voice_...that voice...that low growling voice asking me what I need...that heated penetrating gaze. My panties were instantly soaked so thoroughly that I thought I was going to leave a puddle at my feet.

 

_Is there anything you need?_

_Yes, Frank. I need you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow because just looking at you is making me ache inside and I can’t fucking stand it!_

 

So I laid in that bed in the darkness just staring at the door for most of the night. Fantasizing that at any moment the door handle would turn and Frank would stalk into my bedroom, deliciously bare-chested with that same smoldering look in his eyes, and just fucking devour me.

So yes, I tossed and turned restlessly for hours listening to the muted patter of the falling snow outside, watching the flurries of flakes sprinkling across my windows. And eventually I fell into a agitated sleep.

I awoke early the next morning to the wan glow of the rising sun through my windows. And I was surprisingly refreshed given my turbulent night’s rest. As I turned over, I saw through the sliding glass door a blanket of white over the balcony and treetops beyond. I bounded out of bed like a child, amazed at the sight before me. Everything looked so beautiful, white and sparkling in the pale sunlight. 

It was as if the world had been wiped clean like a blank slate, a new start, a new beginning. And hopefully it was an omen that I could redeem my dignity a little. Or at least have the fortitude not to just throw myself at Frank for god’s sakes.

I took a deep breath and caught the faint scent of coffee wafting in the air. Frank must be up. _Frank. Mmmm...god_. An involuntary tingle of warmth prickled up my neck.

I pulled on my fluffy blue robe and made a quick trip to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and piled my hair up into a messy bun to make myself presentable. Ugh god, my hair was a catastrophe, but I resisted the urge to primp too much.

Frank looked up as I walked into the kitchen. Oh my, he still had on that white T-shirt stretched over his broad chest, those lovely sculpted arms bare and inviting. His gaze was appraising and warm. “Good morning,” he nodded with a small smile.

I willed down the reminiscent blush threatening to heat my cheeks as I took a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. “Good morning, Frank,” I replied softly. “You’re already up and about I see.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t sleep much,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet a moment. “I uh...I put some coffee on for you.”

“Great,” I replied, relieved for the platonic conversation. “Will you join me for a cup?”

“No, thanks,” he said quietly. “I’m not much of a coffee person.” He dropped his gaze to the countertop. “I know you like it though. You always have a cup of coffee in the morning.”

“Oh....um, yes I do...” I was momentarily taken aback. _Wow_. I didn’t realize he had always been paying that much attention. “Thank you.”

He nodded simply in reply and cleared his throat as he looked up again. “Breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” I smiled. 

Mercifully, the atmosphere seemed to relax. We chatted comfortably as I watched him preparing a sumptuous omelette. And thank god. I think if I had encountered the same Frank as last night, I would have been in big trouble. 

If one word had been said in that same growling voice with that scorching green gaze, _mmm god_ I would have just ripped that shirt off his chest, shoved those flannel pants down to his ankles and sank down to my knees on that tiled kitchen floor....

Jesus....sorry, where was I?

Ah, yes. But don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t much easier to watch him as he cooked, that solid body all lithe movements as he expertly prepared our meal. His ass looked absolutely delectable in those flannel pants. And not to mention those big lovely hands...

And god could he cook.

I closed my eyes in relish at the first bite of omelette. “Mmm...I think you’re spoiling me, Frank. This is wonderful. Another skill to add to your long list of accolades I think.”

He chuckled as he plated his own omelette and sat down opposite me. “No, this isn’t anything special. I think you give me too much credit.”

I giggled. “Not so, I assure you. You seem to be a master of all trades, Frank. So tell me, how does one manage to hone so many talents?”

He cast me an amused glance. “I suppose it’s an act of discipline.”

“Discipline huh?” I hummed and raised a brow. “Sounds very daunting.”

“It certainly can be at times,” he said quietly, prodding his omelette with his fork. He cleared his throat and looked over at me. “But discipline is sometimes a necessity,” he said seriously.

I suddenly had the distinct feeling we were discussing something entirely different from my teasing comment. “Well then,” I ventured, “How do you know when discipline is necessary in a situation?”

He dropped his gaze again, prodding his food pensively before he spoke. “The times when it’s the most difficult to maintain.”

“I see,” I remarked softly, gauging the serious expression on his face. I wasn’t sure what we were truly discussing here, but whatever it was certainly weighed heavily on him. I felt the insistent impulse to drag him out of that somber temperament.

“So does that make you a strict disciplinarian?” I teased lightly.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a grudging smile. “Perhaps.”

“Oh my,” I smiled. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

His eyes snapped back up to mine and I was relieved to see a sparkle of mirth in them. He chuckled. “See that you do,” he said gamely, before taking a bite of food. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded over to the kitchen window. “You got your wish. Authentic snow as ordered.”

I grinned. “Yes! And I can’t wait to go out in it.” I chewed lightly on the corner of my lip. “Unless you think some of your colorful local wildlife might come after us.”

He shrugged, taking a swallow of orange juice. “The bears are probably getting ready to hibernate.” There was a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. “If there’s still one out running around, he’s probably just really hungry.”

“Oh great,” I laughed. “Just what we need.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can promise you there’s very little to be afraid of out here.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I quipped. “Don’t forget I’m a big fan of cheesy horror flicks. Any fan of scary movies can tell you that very bad things happen at cabins in the woods.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”

“Naturally. I think we should take care not to let ourselves fall into the horror genre.”

“Uh huh.” That small smile widened on his handsome face. “And what are our other options?”

_Mmmm...preferably a hard-core adult film, Frank...I’d even settle for soft-core if it meant I could just kiss you..._

_Jesus, Y/N! Stop it_!

I felt a flush threatening to overtake my cheeks again and I quickly took a long sip of coffee. As I lowered my mug, I met his gaze, those stormy green eyes focused so keenly on me...

I smiled. “I guess we’ll just have to see, Frank.”

 

 

*********

 

 

*Frank*

 

 

Mercifully, it seemed that my fractured self-control had somewhat repaired itself during the long night. And it was a very long and restless night.

I was somehow able to refrain from staring at her outright as we ate breakfast. Sitting there in that oversized robe, her hair piled in a bun, falling in delicate strands around her lovely face, and looking so unfairly goddamn beautiful. 

_Christ._

Or perhaps it was simply that Y/N had decided to have some mercy on me and abstain from her seductive teasing. She seemed more...hesitant this morning. More politely reserved.

But I was almost certain I could detect that same compelling blush she wore last night trying to surface on her beautiful face...

_Christ._

She was eager to venture out in the snow. I excused myself after breakfast to get changed. I washed my face, shaved, put on my jeans and a clean shirt. And Jesus, I must have tried on about three different sweaters. I don’t know what the fuck I was doing. The first one was too shabby, the second too frumpy...

When had I ever given a damn about what I was wearing off duty? This wasn’t professional attire. 

It was her. _Jesus._

I had the most innane compulsion to make myself more than presentable. For her. It was ridiculous, I know. But there I was changing and rechanging my clothes like I was going out on a date. _Isn’t this the kind of thing women are supposed to do?_

You know I had a sensei years ago when I was stationed in Japan. He used to say that your mind should be like a still pond. Though the wind may blow and the rain may fall, only the bare surface will ever be disturbed. You should always maintain a calm stillness in the depths...

But Fate seemed to be determined to throw rocks in my pool. Rocks with her name on them. Each and every one breaking the surface and sending ripples of distraction that just went on and on...

I was more than aware that I was unfocused. For the first time in a long time, I was struggling to keep my thoughts collected. It wasn’t taking much to unsettle my usual poise. 

I had just finished pulling on my boots when I heard the distant hum of water traveling through the pipes in the wall. I heard the distant sound of the water running down the hall, the sink or the shower, god only knows. And just that errant fucking sound, that small half imagined sound, that’s all it took to send my memory careening back to last night...

A running shower. Her low desperate moan, _god her voice_ , my name falling breathily from her lips, _god those lips_ , imagining her body under the cascading water wet and hot, her hand sliding between her legs... _Fuck!_

My cock gave a threatening twitch and I all but lunged to my feet in a scramble to find something-anything to do to occupy myself. I paced the bedroom uselessly for a few moments and then snatched my phone from the dresser.

Distraction seemed like the best course of action. I called the LAPD evidence supervisor to confirm the bedroom note would be forwarded to Hendrickson at the Bureau, and I continued to pace the bedroom.

I was just wrapping up the call when my phone began to beep. My Dad was trying to get through.

“Hey, Dad,” I answered, letting out a stilted breath. “How are things in Florida?”

“Hello, son,” came his gruff voice in reply. “Fishing’s good. Your sister-in-law is trying to stuff me like a Christmas goose. Your brother’s driving me crazy trying to get me to move down here...”

I grinned. “So the usual, I take it.”

 

“As always.” He paused a moment. “So, I hear congratulations are in order, son.”

“What?”

“I hear you’re getting married,” he said seriously, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. “You might have at least let your old man know.”

I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face. “Christ almighty...No, Dad. I’m not getting married.”

He laughed then. “I’m only joshing you, boy. I knew Carol musta had her wires crossed when she called. I take it you’ve got that young lady actress with you.”

“Yeah, Dad...”

He was silent a moment. “Things must be gettin’ kinda rough if you’re bringing her out to the house.”

I sighed heavily. “Yeah, seems that way. I’m trying to keep her under the radar for a while until I figure things out.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” he chuckled. “You kids stay as long as you like. ‘Sides, might be a nice thing to have a woman in the house after all this time. Bring a little sunshine into the place, you know.” He paused again. “Might be a nice thing for you to have some female company too,” he ventured none too casually.

_Ah Christ._

“Dad...” I began warningly.

He laughed heartily. “Don’t be gettin’ your britches all in a twist, boy. I’m just saying a little companionship ain’t a bad thing. You’re a young man, she’s a pretty girl...”

“Ah god, Dad. Stop! Can we talk about something else?” I pleaded tiredly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave it be,” he chuckled. “Your mother was always the matchmaker anyway. The first snow came yet?”

“Yeah, just last night. Not bad. Only a couple of feet. Maybe more tonight.”

“Good, good. Well if the young lady needs some warm things, there’s plenty of clothes in the laundry closet.”

“Thanks, Dad. Carol and Larry still looking after Foster?”

“Yep. I’m sure the little mongrel is gonna be spoiled rotten by the time I get back,” he grumbled. “I keep tellin’ Carol not to let him sleep on the bed. Can’t get him to stay offa mine when I get home.”

I hummed. “You keep him plenty spoiled here too, Dad.”

He harrumphed grudgingly. “Prob’ly so. Alright son. I’ll be back on Friday. Lookin’ forward to meeting your lady friend.” I could almost hear his smile through the phone. “You kids behave yourselves now,” he admonished jovially.

 

 

*********

 

 

*Y/N*

 

 

My mother called shortly after breakfast. Apparently the ‘wonderful members of the Hollywood press’ had been trying to reach my folks by phone to inquire about the alleged ‘family matter’ I had mentioned during the Wojo interview. _Ugh these fucking vultures..._

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I sighed. “I should have guessed it wouldn’t take long for the press to start snooping.”

“Oh, it’s alright dear,” I heard her laugh. “We haven’t been answering the phone. I don’t think the answering machine has ever been this full.”

“I know, I just hate for you guys to have to deal with any problems-“

“Don’t worry, honey,” she interrupted. “We’re fine. The more important thing is how you are doing. Is everything okay?”

I hesitated. I really didn’t want to tell her about the stalker situation. My parents knew better than to believe anything published by the gossip mags, but I knew they would still be worried.

“There’s just be a lot going on,” I offered in half-hearted explanation. “I’m just taking a little time off. Getting out of town and away from the madness for a bit.”

“That’s good, honey.” She paused a moment. “But I hope you’re not out on your own...”

“No, I’m just upstate...And I um, I have a new bodyguard now...” I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my lips. “He’s um...he’s very good company.”

“Oh?” I heard the note of pleased interest in her tone. _Oh shit_. “And what does this ‘good company’ call himself?” she continued.

“Frank. And he’s very good. I promise I am safe and sound.”

“Frank,” she echoed thoughtfully. “And how old is Frank? Is he married, divorced? Does he have any children? Any bad habits?”

I resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Mom, really,” I sighed.

“What?” she asked with feigned innocence. “Can’t a mother ask about the man her daughter is spending such ‘good company’ with?”

“He is a very qualified professional,” I said firmly, grateful that she couldn’t see the smile on my face.

I managed to placate her with some of Frank’s many accomplishments, carefully sidestepping any probing questions. Though she seemed satisfied for the moment, I was sure she suspected there was more I wasn’t revealing. I tried to wrap up the conversation as soon as possible.

“You sound good,” she commented out of the blue. “Much happier and less frazzled than the last time we talked.”

I mouthed soundlessly for a moment, unsure how to reply. “Uh...” I ventured lamely. “I guess a little break is just what I needed. Listen, I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you soon, Mom. I love you.”

“Mmmhmm,” she trilled knowingly. “I love you too, honey. You be safe.”

I sighed as I hung up and put my phone back on the bedside table. My mother could always tell when I was holding something back. But what could I say? 

_Yes, Mom. Frank is so sweet but so stoic, unbelievably sexy, I find myself fantasizing about him constantly, and I want to bang him like a screen door in a hurricane. God!_

I washed my face and quickly dressed and fixed my hair. I fought the urge to primp too much but I couldn’t resist a couple of extra spritzes of perfume. I pulled on my oversized coat and took a deep fortifying breath as I walked out of the room.

Frank was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs when I emerged from the bedroom. He was wearing a heavy black parka and a forest green sweater that complemented his eyes so beautifully. _And oh god, he has on jeans again. God help me._ He looked up as I was descending the stairs and smiled. Ugh god, that small lovely little smile was so disorienting. I nearly lost my footing and went tumbling down the steps.

“Ready to brave the wilds?” he grinned as I reached the bottom by the grace of god.

I smiled, shoving my hands into my coat pockets distractedly. “As I’ll ever be.”

He reached over to the back of the couch and handed me a grey bundle of cloth. “Here,” he said quietly, almost shyly. “You might need it.”

I took it from him and unraveled the bundle between my hands. It was a very pretty grey scarf, thick and cable knit. I ran my hands over the soft fabric to the tasseled end. There was a little black bear silhouette embroidered on the bottom above the tassels.

I smiled. “Thank you, Frank. This is beautiful.”

He nodded, dropping his gaze. “It was my Mom’s.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no, Frank, I couldn’t possibly take it...”

“It’s nothing,” he interrupted, shaking his head. He met my eyes again. “I owe you a scarf anyway.” He flexed his right hand unconsciously, and I could see the knuckles still dark with the scabs from the fiasco at Wojo’s.

“Thank you, Frank,” I said softly. And the phrase didn’t nearly encompass all that I meant to say, all that I really wanted to thank him for. I thumbed absently over the little embroidered bear. “It really is beautiful...I really shouldn’t though...”

He shook his head again dismissively. “No arguments.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, those lovely little crinkles appearing next to his eyes. “Besides, I imagine it has special bear repelling powers.”

I laughed and smiled. “Very well then. I’m sure we need all the help we can get,” I teased.

He chuckled, his eyes rolling skyward. “She can brave a whole zoo of press and paparazzi, but mention one bear and she-“

I swatted at him playfully, cutting off his sarcastic retort, and draped the scarf over my neck. He smirked, placing one of those big warm hands on the small of my back as he led me to the door.

And god it was beautiful outside. It was like stepping into some kind of nostalgic Bing Crosby Christmas special. The ground was covered in an endless blanket of white, the trees sparkling in the morning sun.

I walked down the porch steps, stamping my feet gleefully in the thick snow, delighting in the satisfying crunch. “Oh my god, this is amazing,” I gushed, stretching out my arms and twirling in a circle out into the slush.

Frank leaned against the porch railing, clearly entertained by my spectacle. “I’ve never seen anyone so excited for snow before,” he chuckled.

 

“Of course! I feel like a kid at Christmas! How often do I have the opportunity to see actual snow? I feel like I’ve been terribly deprived, Frank. I’ve never built a snowman, never made a snow angel, never made a...”

A sudden impish thought crossed gleefully through my mind. I crouched down, picking up two handfuls of snow. I began slowly rolling the snow into a ball between my hands, looking up at Frank with an incorrigible smile.

The comprehension of my intention dawned on his face. He grinned with a stern shake of his head. “You don’t want to do that...” he said seriously but belied it with the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

I took several steps backward, passing the snowball from hand to hand. “That’s sounds suspiciously like a dare, Frank.”

 

He was lining me up in his sights, the amusement in his eyes taking on a delightfully dangerous glint. “There will be consequences,” he warned, his voice lowering to a deliciously low octave.

I resisted the urge to melt under that piercing green gaze, that low panty-dropping voice. I bit my lip with a smile. “Ah yes I forgot, you are quite the disciplinarian,” I teased.

A small smile, mischievous but no less wolfish, curled at the corner of his mouth. “More than you know,” he hummed darkly.

_Oh my._

I bit down on the corner of my lip again with an insolent giggle. “What can I say? I can’t help but rise to a challenge.” I rolled the snowball slowly and impudently between my hands. “What are you going to do about it, _Agent Farmer?_ ”

He straightened. Even through his heavy clothes, I swear I could almost see the bunch and coil of his muscles like he was preparing to pounce. That little smile widened into an almost predatory grin on his handsome face. “You will see.”

Our eyes locked. There was something unexpectedly exciting about that daring little moment. Like tempting fate, like hovering your hand over a hot burner and seeing just how close you could get...

Before I could dare to think twice, my arm was moving, the snowball flying through the air toward him...

And in an eyeblink, he was already taking a running leap off the porch, the snowball grazing past him as he lunged towards me. I squeaked in shocked surprise and quickly turned to run, laughing madly. I knew I was a fast runner, but _holy shit_ even in those few seconds, I could hear his footfalls rapidly gaining on me. I errantly remembered some old nature documentary about how you should never turn your back on a predator. 

_If you run, it will give chase._

Before I knew what was happening, he was grabbing me around the waist and snatching my feet up off of the ground. He was manhandling me into his arms and dropping to ground, pinning me on my back between his knees in the snow. I was laughing so hard I could hardly catch my breath as he tried to hold my squirming form still.  “Do you surrender?” he laughed, and god the deep genuine sound of that laughter was a wonderful sound.

“Never!” I yelled defiantly, but then squealed in absurd dismay as he grabbed two handfuls of snow and began kneading them furiously together above my head, scattering little pellets of snow onto my face and neck.

I screeched between gasping peals of laugher, pushing uselessly against his solid thighs. I was uselessly trying to wiggle out from under him to no avail. In a burst of inspiration to wrestle him off balance, I grabbed the lapels of his coat and yanked him down to me...

And _oh my_ in a frenetic heartbeat I realized his face was now inches from mine, his elbows caging me in on each side of my head, his hard body pressed tightly against me in the snow...

We stopped laughing.

For a moment there was silence save for the rustling wind. I watched the steam of our heavy breaths mingling. And god he was so gloriously, so tantalizingly close. My eyes wandered freely over his handsome features. I could see the tiniest little freckles appear as a flush rose over his cheekbones, his lips were so alluringly pink and pale in the cold...

My hands were still fisted in his collar. I gave them a tentative pull, bringing him deliberately closer. The heady familiar scent of his cologne draped over me. Cardamom, vetiver and leather invading my senses and making my mouth water. I writhed consciously but so illusively beneath him, delighting in the subtle hitch in his breath.

That heavy green gaze was sweeping over me like he was memorizing every feature of my face. I met his eyes, and his expression was so deliciously unguarded. Deep and heated, an unmistakable flare of desire overtaking the wary caution in his eyes. 

“Do you surrender, Frank?” I whispered softly, breathily.

His gaze dropped to my mouth and he swallowed hard. I didn’t want to give him even a moment’s time to think or disengage. I ran my hand up the side of his face, over the hard edge of his jaw...

He froze for a moment, still and tense, and then he was yielding...his eyes were falling closed, leaning into my touch... His lips parted and he exhaled a jagged breath...

I felt my heart stop, my pulse trip and restart, hammering in my ears. I can’t even describe how much I wanted, how much I _needed_ to kiss him. The prey had suddenly but most definitely become the predator. My mouth was so hungry for him, tingling with anticipation. I desperately wanted to sink my teeth into those pale perfect lips, drink him in and just consume him whole. 

I breathed so softly over his mouth, giving him air and he weakened against me, inhaled it like a lifeline. He was so warm, so heavy, waves of heat roiling from his body like he was on fire from resisting me. 

_God Frank, please..._

I lifted my face those few dangerous millimeters, brushing my nose against his, dragging my tingling lips ever so gently against his mouth. Over the peak of his lips, that crowning Cupid’s bow, over the sumptuous curve of his lower lip, parted and sucking in my breath as I exhaled. And god the sensation was so galvanic, electric, my eyes fluttered closed to savor it fully. His lips were so soft, so firm and yet so pliant, his breath so warm. I could taste him on my lips and it sent an unbidden clench of want between my legs... _and god I just craved more more more_ …

There came a low anguished sound from his throat that made my stomach flare with an urgent heat- _but oh god no!_ He was pulling away, sitting back on his heels with a startled huff of breath. My eyes flew open to see that stormy green gaze looked so lost, adrift and messy with barely concealed alarm.

_Mmm god, Frank. No no no no! Please, please stay..._

He looked away, quickly rising to stand and taking my hands to pull me gently to my feet.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice rough and hoarse in his throat. “I shouldn’t have...” The words died away into the bracing air as he shifted restlessly on his feet, still not meeting my eyes.

Little flurries of snow were beginning to fall, landing cold and stinging on my flushed cheeks, my lips still tingling with frustrated hunger. I wanted to just grab him by the jaw, smash my mouth up against his and kiss him until we both smothered. I wanted his weight on me again, so dangerous and enticing. I wanted to immerse myself in his scent, taste it on the skin of his throat...

He tentatively brushed snow from hair, my face, his hand falling to the hollow of my neck and then pulling away quickly.  He didn’t seem to know what to do with hands, crossing them over his chest, uncrossing them, and eventually settling them restlessly on his hips. I watched him... this utterly controlled, utterly composed man...this master of ‘discipline’...and I was  _utterly enthralled_ at his discomfiture.

“Frank...” I whispered, my voice low and soothing as if he was a skittish horse, a breath away from rearing up and running headlong into the trees.

He hazarded a quick look at me, and _oh my_ I had never seen such a beautifully flustered expression on his face. And god and it sent a warm thrill of pleased satisfaction up my spine to see how compellingly undone he looked.

He swallowed thickly, jaw clenched and cleared his throat as he regarded the snow beginning to fall around us. “I think we should be getting back,” he said quietly, gesturing aimlessly back in the direction of the cabin.

“Okay,” I replied just as quietly, belying the awful surge of desire churning in my stomach. 

I didn’t know what else to say.

 

 

*********

 

 

*Frank*

 

 

Christ, I had seriously fucked up.

Just when I thought I had a handle on things, my self-control had nearly scattered apart like a house of cards...

The snow was beginning to fall more heavily when we got back to the house. I couldn’t feel it. I felt like I was burning up inside. My lips were burning too. _God, she had burned me_... Scalded me with that plush perfect mouth and I would have happily burned alive. 

_But Jesus, I couldn’t... I fucking couldn’t_.  

I was tense, disoriented. I needed to do something. Anything. Christ, anything to refocus. I stripped off my parka, rolled up my sleeves and stormed out the back door into the snow. I grabbed the axe from the shed and headed to the log pile in the backyard. 

I must have split about an acre’s worth of firewood by the time I started to feel the thudding of my pulse falling into an acceptable rhythm. My arms were sore, my back was stiff, my chest was constricted and  _Jesus, what the hell was I doing?_

_You're sweating your ass off and chopping wood in the driving snow like a fucking maniac, Farmer._

_God, this woman..._

My fractured self control wasn’t nearly as repaired as I hoped it had been and now...Jesus, now it was damn near splintered. And I was desperately trying to gather as many fragments as I could grasp.

_But god help me..._

The warmth of her body under mine out there in the snow...the urging shift of her hips beneath me...drowning in those bright magnetic eyes...the gentle press of those plush pillowy lips over mine...her scent in my lungs, inhaling the taste of her into my mouth, devastatingly sweet... _Fuck!_

I knew it. I knew I would be navigating dangerous waters by bringing her out to this place. And now here we were. Just her. Just me. By ourselves, no place to retreat, no place to hide...

There was no hiding from this anymore... I couldn’t run from it. I couldn’t compartmentalize it. I couldn’t bury it under a lifetime of training and self-control...

I was utterly captivated by her. 

_Y/N_...god, it was so much more than the fact that she was _just so goddamn beautiful_. She was disarming, so lovely and sincere...she had been completely dismantling my defenses before I even realized they were falling down around me. 

And then last night...hearing that low desperate voice moaning _my name_ , imagining the things I wanted to do to her to hear it again...her startled guilty blush in the kitchen, the scent of arousal emanating from her damp skin... _Christ!_

She was the ultimate forbidden fruit. And I was failing miserably at resisting the temptation. _Christ. How the hell had I allowed this to happen?_

Another mistake. How long is the list at this point?

_Boundaries, boundaries, Farmer...motherfucking boundaries..._

But Jesus the simple truth was, it was my own fault. I had allowed myself to view her beyond the scope of a client. It started the moment I first laid eyes on her. And maybe there was no way I could have avoided it. She could never be just a client... 

I wondered if she had any idea at all what she was doing to me...

And _fuck_ , what was it that she wanted from me? Her every teasing flirtation, every loaded look... Was it solely to get a reaction out of me? A rise, a twinge in my jaw, a twitch of my cock? The mere satisfaction of winding me up, making me tick, waiting for me to explode.

But I knew that didn’t fit. That wasn’t her way. She was too genuine, too guileless for that. Everything about her reflected such an open and candid vulnerability. Those teasing flirtations and loaded looks caught me off guard every time. And I couldn’t begin to fathom how not to react. It was reflexive. Instinctive. And I didn’t know _why_ I couldn’t stop it.

But whatever the reason, of one thing I was absolutely certain. It was becoming harder and harder to recall what it might cost me to touch her. Really touch her. With intent. With purpose. Consequences be damned.

All I knew in that moment was that I couldn’t _fucking stand it_ anymore. I wasn’t prepared for this. I didn’t know how to fight it.

It had taken my last crumbling ounce of self-restraint not to _just fucking kiss her_. The last act of a dying man perishing under her touch...

And it was still killing me...

 

Because I knew that if I kissed her, that would be it. 

After that, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself...

 

 

*********

 

 

*Y/N*

 

 

I watched Frank for a long time from a concealed angle of the upstairs window. He had retreated outside immediately after we got back. And _dammit to hell_ , I didn’t realize how titillating chopping wood could be...

He cut such a stark and powerful figure out there in the snow. That green sweater couldn't conceal the lovely straining planes of his back and muscular chest as he split one log after another in endless repetition. Little flurries of snowflakes would settle on his broad shoulders only to be propelled back into the air moments later with each thunderous swing of his axe. Even in the cold air, I could see the sheen of sweat on his rugged brow and the undulating tendons of his bare forearms. _God, I wish it could be me making him break a sweat like that...desperately grasping at his hot damp skin as he surged against my body...feel those muscles straining under my hands..._

Ugh, I really needed to corral these voyeuristic tendencies. They only served to bedevil me with wholly inappropriate thoughts...especially inappropriate now...

I had made a move. And it had backfired spectacularly.

This wasn’t the wayward kiss on the neck in the Escalade. This had been overt. Gentle but nonetheless demanding.

_God, I wanted him_...This was torture. But I didn’t dare entertain the idea of getting some ‘relief’ with another shower.

Rather than continue to torment myself, I went downstairs to the kitchen. I was never much of a chef believe me, but it was a welcome distraction to prepare a meal. I decided on making hot ham and grilled cheese sandwiches. As I was heating up some tomato basil soup on the stove, I heard the back door close, heard Frank’s footsteps going upstairs, and a few minutes later the hum of running water.

_God, I hope we’re not going to avoid each other for the rest of the day..._

I plated the sandwiches and the soups and set them out of the island counter. Frank appeared in the kitchen moments later, apparently freshly showered and changed. Another lovely white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. I resisted the insistent temptation to ogle his chest and arms.

He smiled softly and I returned it. We stood unspeaking for a moment. 

“I made lunch,” I offered, breaking the silent siege. I untangled my twining fingers and gestured to the kitchen island. “It’s um, it’s not exactly an olive branch but-“

“You don’t need to offer any olive branch,” he interjected, shaking his head. He stepped closer but stopped a safe distance away. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said seriously. I noted with abashed satisfaction that he again seemed not to know what to do with his hands, eventually settling them restlessly at his waist. He drew a breath. “It’s my job to keep you safe, Y/N. I shouldn’t have-“

It was my turn to interrupt. “It’s okay...I understand,” I said quickly. It seemed like the safest thing to say. I couldn’t imagine how in any way _he felt_ at fault. But he still looked so compellingly discomfited, and it didn’t seem merciful to let him continue to flounder. 

Silence fell between us for a beat as we stood and looked at each other. Me twining my fingers, Frank shifting on his feet. And god, it was such a strange moment, such an awkward exchange, I couldn’t help but laugh. “God, we really are a pair aren’t we, Frank?”

I was relieved to see him smile. That small lovely little smile, “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, we are.” He cleared his throat, looking over to the table. “Smells good.” His eyes flickered warmly back to mine. “Thank you.”

I smiled. “My pleasure. Come sit.”

And just like that, things seemed to be back on an even keel. We ate lunch and talked comfortably, laughed and teased lightly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I could just turn off my _awareness_ of him. His handsome features, his piercing eyes, his small smiles and _mmm god_ those forbidden lips. But for the time being at least, I felt a little more in control of myself. I could behave.

And the afternoon passed mostly unremarkably. Roxy called sometime after lunch to tell me that Roman was beside himself in agitation. Apparently the media vultures had been inundating him with requests for comment. Between the stalker story and my current drop off the radar, I was unfortunately becoming a hot topic. The gossip rags hadn’t had any luck fishing with my parents, and now they were downright ravenous to get a juicy scoop. 

Frank was busy hauling firewood into the house, so I retreated upstairs to speak to her privately.

“So what’s the verdict look like, Rox?” I sighed heavily as I sat down on my bed.

“Oh, it runs the entire gamut,” she tittered lightly. “Dying relative, secret hospitalization, drug rehab, concealed pregnancy, illicit love affair...the Sun tabloid is even insinuating an abduction cover-up.”

I laughed out loud. “Like an alien abduction?”

“More along the lines of a secret society conspiracy,” she remarked airily. “The Scientologists taking your forcibly into their fold.”

“Ugh, god,” I groused. “These people are unbelievable.”

“Well, they’re not entirely wrong, are they?” she giggled.

“You’re not serious, Roxy.”

“I don’t know,” she hummed with mirth. “The illicit love affair isn’t too far off the mark, is it?”

I felt my cheeks heating traitorously. “Don’t be silly, Rox.”

“You mean to tell me that nothing has happened between you two yet?!” she exclaimed disbelieving.

I laughed, hopefully in a would-be-offhand way. My eyes landed on the lovely cable knit scarf Frank had given me, now draped carefully over the bedside table. I smiled ruefully and took a breath. “He’s been a perfect gentleman,” I said softly, trying to keep any note of disappointment out of my voice.

“Oh no, we can’t have that,” she quipped, her voice teasingly grave. “Listen to a wise woman, Y/N. Frank is very taken with you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

I laughed again, rubbing absently over the bridge of my nose. “I gotta go now, Rox,” I sing-songed. “Please keep me updated, and try to keep Roman sane for me too.”

She sighed. “I’ll try my best. And you’ll keep me updated too, won’t you? About any interesting developments,” she added slyly.

Little did I know just how ‘interesting’ things would get...

 

 

*********

 

to be continued... ;)


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